War of Words
by Yanx's Pen
Summary: Ron gets jealous of Draco and Hermione's budding friendship ... or is it more than just friendship? He casts a spell on Draco that causes the latter to say a lot of ... unexpected things. 7th year! Post war
1. Ron Sees Red

**Disclaimer: Unless JK Rowling likes to spend her spare time by writing Dramione fanfiction **(which would be kinda weird)**,** **has a mega crush for Rob Pattinson, and is still in high school, then yeah, I own everything Harry Potter** ... Uh, just for the record, I don't. Just the plot, of course.

_**A**_**/N: 3 things: Number 1: Okay, so this is my F**_**irst Time Ever**_** piece of fanfiction, so please please R & R? (hah! i'm finally able to say that :D) Crit if you wanna ... actually, please do. Number 2: Certain ... **_**ahem**_** ... colours come up in this story. If you're confused as to what they mean, please scroll down to bottom of page to see what they mean. And please, don't scroll **_**now - **_**that'll just ruin it. And finally, Number 3: **_Enjoy._

------------------------------------------------------------RON SEES RED-----------------------------------------------------------

Ron eyed the pair in front of him with narrowed eyes. Turning to his Potions partner, he asked in an undertone, "Harry, have you noticed how ... _friendly_... Bumfluff here has been towards Hermione recently?"

Harry added the Flobberworm's mucus to the potion, and then joined Ron in watching Draco Malfoy remove a bit of unicorn hair that had lodged itself in Hermione's hair. Hermione's response - blushing - didn't go unnoticed by her two best friends. Ron's eyes, if possible, narrowed even further.

Harry returned to their potion - well, really, _his _potion, considering the fact that Ron couldn't refrain from focusing his attention on Malfoy's every movement. "Jealous, Ron?" he teased.

Ron rolled his eyes dramatically. "As if! I just find it weird how the bloody idiot can suddenly _rise from the dead_."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "He was never dead to begin with."

Ron hissed in frustration. "A guy can dream. But seriously, Harry, what I meant was that _before_ the war, Malfoy was this hard-hearted, cold bloke devoid of any feelings. And now, oh-so-_bloody_-suddenly, he acts as though he has a heart! The guy's barking mad!" He continued to burn daggers into the back of Malfoy's head.

Draco, without turning, raised his voice slightly so that they could hear him, "I can _feel_ that, Weasel."

Ron obstinately intensified his stare, but returned to assist Harry when Slughorn said, "Ten minutes left!"

Looking at the bubbling potion, he asked, "So, what are we making?"

"_I _am making Veritaserum. Or trying to, at least ..."

"Oh. Right." Ron fiddled with the apparatus. Bored, he returned to monitoring Malfoy's every move.

Harry observed Ron, and said quietly, "Ron, he _did_ explain to us about it." Ron let out a "humph!" sound. Harry continued, "He - could you pass the snake venom please - he said that the war taught him compassion -" (here Ron laughed; Harry ignored him, trying to hide his irritation) "-and _how, _what kind of blood a person has doesn't matter. He said it taught him to respect the value of love. He said it taught him -"

"Wish it taught him how to make you shut up," Ron mumbled darkly.

Harry sighed. "Look, Ron, I'm not saying I believe him. But I've learnt to accept him." _And control myself_,_unlike _some _people,_ he added as an afterthought, but didn't mention this to Ron. "Besides," he continued, "he can't be half that bad if Hermione doesn't mind his company." Ron stared at him incredulously. Harry chose to ignore this, and retired to his own thoughts, stirring the potion absentmindedly.

Harry recalled Draco's discomfort of trying to fit in after the war. Draco still had that condescending manner of his, though, but Harry could still see that a little warmth had highlighted Draco's eyes recently. He recalled getting a half-hearted handshake and a curt nod out of Draco. He recalled Ron's and Hermione's post-relationship awkward phase. And speaking of relationships, he and Ginny -

"Harry!"

Ron's yelp snapped Harry back to the present, only to find himself surrounded by a cloud of steam.

Ron's voice came from somewhere on his right. "It's ten stirs anti-clockwise, and then _four_ stirs clockwise - not twenty!" Harry cursed. _So _now_ the git decides to pay attention?_

The steam slowly faded, and Harry was met with an alarming sight. Ron's hair had gone from his usual red hair to a reddish-brown colour. "Y-your hair ..." Harry didn't have time to complete his sentence. A figure approached their desk.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn's voice boomed. He inspected their potion. "Ah, you managed to concoct a _Mood Reflector_ Potion. Very clever, of course, but today we're brewing Veritaserum! So I'm afraid Mr Weasley, your hair will be changing all sorts of colours - according to your moods - for approximately a week." At this, Ron's hair turned even more red-brown. Many of the Slytherins jeered at him, whereas the Gryffindors shot him sympathetic, yet partly amused, looks.

Slughorn chuckled, and returned to inspecting the other cauldrons. "However, Harry, ten points to Gryffindor for brewing the potion so perfectly!"

Slughorn had returned to Hogwarts on McGonagall's request. He reoccupied his post as Potions Master, with Harry still being his favourite student.

Ron whimpered, catching his reflection in the window, "My hair!" He looked at Harry's jet-black, haphazard hair. "How come nothing's wrong with _yours_?"

Hermione piped up, reciting, "With-a-Mood-Reflector-Potion-the-steam-produced-affects-any-person-within-one-foot-of-the-potion-excluding-the-potion-brewer." Ron's hair turned blood red.

Malfoy smirked at Ron. "Angry much, Weasel?"

If steam could have come out of Ron's ears, it would have. He withdrew his wand. "Why, you arrogant, little b -"

The bell cut him off. "Save it, Weasel. Such perfection -" here, Draco pointed to himself, "-really shouldn't be insulted." And with that, he winked at Hermione who produced another blush, and casually strolled out of the classroom, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Hermione shook her head disbelievingly, a small smile playing on her lips. She filled a vial with the potion from her and Draco's cauldron and deposited it on Slughorn's desk. She walked out of the classroom with Harry and Ron flanking her. She stopped abruptly at the end of the passage, and turned to face Ron. The two, not expecting the sudden stop, collided with her, and they tumbled to the floor. A moment past by, when all three burst into laughter. Ron's hair turned blue-green. Seeing this, the friends laughed harder. They collected themselves, and got up, brushing off the dust from their robes. Hermione, still giggling, told Ron, "I was _going_ to say, Ron, that you really shouldn't insult Malfoy." A teasing glint coloured her eyes. "Anyway," she continued, glancing towards her right, "I need to go to the -"

"Library," said Ron and Harry together.

"Right," Hermione smiled, and ran off.

Harry rolled his eyes, and walked in the general direction of the Great Hall for lunch. Ron followed him, his hair turning orange, as he pondered over something Hermione had said. The wheel of thought began to spin in his head...

------------------------------------------------------ -----to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

_Colours:_

_Red-brown - Alarm_

_Blood red - Angry_

_Blue-green - Normal, easy-going, relaxed_

_Orange - thoughtful, stimulation of ideas._

These are definitely accurate! I verified with _Mood Rings Colour Chart:_ .com/


	2. Firelight

**Disclaimer: Just the plot. Nothing else. Only the plot. Right, now repeat 100 times.**

_**A/**_**N: Hmm, I'll admit, that humour doesn't play a huge role in this chapter. But I hope you like it anyway :D Also, this is the same day, in the evening, that Chapter 1 took place on.**

-------------------------------------------------------------FIRELIGHT----------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter II - Firelight

Hermione re-read the sentence in front of her exactly nineteen times before reluctantly admitting that nothing was going in. She had a four- foot long essay for Professor Flitwick, an Arithmancy chart to work on due for the following week, a three-foot piece on the Deadly Nightshade for Professor Sprout, _and_ an assignment that she had to do with ... No, she _refused_ to even _think_ the name. Her stress levels were doing a tap-dance on her nerves. And not because of the homework. Surprisingly.

Her fingernails drummed a staccato beat against the smooth veneer surface of her working table. The sound echoed in the cold room. Against her will, she glanced at the clock above his door. _Again_. Funny clock this one. Didn't even show the time. The hands stayed frozen, moving only at certain times. If Hermione's 5-year old cousin was with her, she'd probably ask, "Hermioninny! If the short hand is 'tween twelve and one, and the long hand is at six, what does that mean?" _It means that it is very late, and you should be in bed._

Her irritation emanated from her, and when _he_ walked through that portrait hole, she was going to let him have it. Oh yeah, _then_ he'll like the Mudblood.

She heard footsteps outside the Heads' Common Room door. She glanced at the clock, then at her own watch. That couldn't be right. He wasn't expected for at least an hour! Curiosity quirked, she crossed the distance to the door, and thrust it open to see ... nothing.

Strange. She could've sworn she heard ...

Her eyes raked the passage to her left, found nothing, and then to her right, again with the same results. Could she have imagined it? Was she going delusional? Maybe it was all that studying - She quickly dispelled the thought. One could _never_ do too much of studying. She felt a sudden draft, and shivered.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she drew back and closed the door. Rubbing the tiredness away from her eyes, she turned around to head back to her desk, and gasped. Someone else was sitting there. Someone who was shaking with silent laughter.

"Harry! How did you -?" Her eyes fell on his Invisibility Cloak on his lap. Then, recalled that sudden draft. "Ah. You gave me a right shock, you did."

"You should've seen your face! Worth more than Lockhart's when he lost his memory!"

She shot him a look that could wilt a flower.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She marched straight towards him, waving her wand. He ducked, but only to find that all the homework that Hermione had stacked on the table was now floating to her room. The door slammed shut behind it, and a small _plop_ could be heard as the books deposited themselves on her bed.

Standing over him, she asked, "What are you doing in a place you're not permitted to enter?"

"Nothing really," Harry replied nonchalantly, acting as if he did this everyday. "I'll be gone in just a bit ... And you should fix that." His head jerked in the direction of the clock hanging on the wall above the Head Boy's door.

Hermione heaved a sigh, too tired to want to explain anything. And it was getting late!

In a bored tone, she said, "They don't need fixing. If I'm out, and - " she forced herself to spit out the name, "-_Malfoy -"_ she couldn't help the fire that coursed through her veins at the taste of his name, "- is here, the clock above my door will show what time I'll be back. " Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Hermione carried on in the same tone, "But if I change my mind whilst I'm away, the time on my clock will change as well. It's influenced by my decisions. _His_ works the same way as well, when I'm here and he's away." Harry looked ready to interrupt. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "_But_, when I'm here my clock disappears. Same for him."

Harry didn't know which he was more surprised at: Hermione lacking enthusiasm when explaining a magical concept, or Hermione choosing to completely explain something she didn't even want to.

"You know," Harry said tentatively, "you could've just said you didn't feel like explaining." Harry always understood her.

Hermione looked apologetic. "Sorry, Harry, I'm just so messed up right now." She threw her hands in the air and plopped herself onto one of the couches, gazing up at _his_ clock. Thirty minutes to go.

Harry got up and sat next to her on the couch, hugging her. "Ron and I are here for you. Don't ever doubt that."

Hermione smiled. "I won't. I don't."

They enjoyed a few minutes f comfortable silence, before Harry got up and said he had to leave. "He'll be back any minute now, so I best be off." Hermione's pulse sped up considerably. _It's just nerves, is all, nothing more. Confronting Mal - _him_, wouldn't be that bad. _

"Anyway, just thought I'd see how you are."

"Liar," Hermione teased.

Harry grinned. "Ron kind of kicked me out. Something tells me he doesn't take to Lavender Insults too kindly."

Hermione laughed, walking him to the door. "Goodnight, Harry ... Oh, hang on - your Cloak." Another wave of her wand, and it was covering Harry.

"'Night," Harry said. The door opened, and then closed behind him.

Hermione leaned back against the door, and sunk to the floor. She flicked her wand at the suspended candles in the room so that they went off. She thought better in the darkness. Only the dying fire was awake. She knotted her hands in her hair in frustration. _What should she tell him? Where should she start? _She sat there for a long time, contemplating. After a good few minutes, his clock made a hissing noise, like that of a snake, announcing his arrival.

She stumbled forward, so that she could get out of the way.

A figure stepped through, and closed the door behind him. The common room went dark once again, the fire completely snuffed. However, he tripped over the person on the floor. Darkness disguised anything as well as Invisibility Cloaks.

"Granger?" he whispered into the darkness.

She flicked her wand, and the candles burst to life again. She stood up, but didn't realize how close she was too him. She suddenly felt very warm, despite the biting cold. His eyes. His silver eyes. Rimmed by a thin black circle. Shades of grey flecked at various parts of his irises. Staring right into her. She was drowning in them ... She mentally slapped herself. _Too close._ She hastily retreated until she felt her working table's edge met the small of her back. She watched him raise his eyebrows in amusement.

"Malfoy," she bit out, trying to relieve her voice of any emotion. But she found it difficult to continue as if there wasn't a raging fire within her. _The things he does to me_. "We need to talk."

-----------------------------------------------------------to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

_**A/**_**N: Hermione, in this chapter, is confused about Draco, and what she feels for him. Everything is explained in chapter 3.**

_**memories-in-hidden glass**_**: Don't worry! That will all be explained in Chapter 3. Hopefully.**


	3. Confessions

**Disclaimer: It's getting pretty tedious having to keep saying that **_**hey! I'm not JK! **_**Or**_** hey! I only own the plot! **_** I think that, by now, you would know this, right? Goody!**

_**A/**_**N: Hope all is explained in this chapter. Have fun reading! **

-----------------------------------------------------------Confessions-------------------------------------------------------------

Malfoy exhaled noisily, "Look, Granger, can't we talk about this tomorrow?" He glanced at his watch. "I mean, _later today_? It's getting late, and I'm really tired."

"No. Because if I don't do this now, I won't ever be able to!" She refused to look at him. His eyes had the habit of derailing whatever thought she had chugging around the track in her brain when she looked into them. Instead, she looked at the wall next to him.

He rolled his eyes, and drawled, "Won't ever be able to do what?" He began to make his way to his room.

She couldn't let that happen. "Stop!" she exclaimed.

The tone of her voice halted him. He looked at her then, and she forced herself to stare right back at him. Something on her face must have told him something because he intoned, "Fine. Ten minutes max." He started to close the distance between them, only to find her scooting around the table, to get further away from him.

_She was running away from him?_

"Uh, can you just stay there, please? I can't think - _handle!_ I meant _handle_, close distances." He raised his eyebrows in amusement. He obviously caught her slip, and she mentally cursed herself. Ignoring her request, he closed the distance between them until they were about a foot apart. He noticed her breath hitch. He grinned.

"This good enough for you?" And not waiting for a reply, he took a seat at the table. He glanced at her. "By all means, _do_ make yourself at home," he gestured to the seat across from him.

She narrowed her eyes, but took the seat anyway.

Malfoy fluttered his eyelashes, and asked in a low, seductive whisper, "So what is it, exactly, that you want to talk to me about?"

Something in her snapped. She stood up. "_That_," she replied angrily. "Your _constant teasing_. What is _with_ you? You can't just - just -" she trailed off, waving her hands uselessly in the air.

He wasn't saying anything.

She started to pace up and down in front of him. "I get that the war affected you. It affected everyone. But what I _don't_ get is how you can suddenly find it in yourself to be friendly towards me. More than friendly actually! Flirtatious, too!" She paused in her pacing, looked at him and whispered, "You hated me, remember?"

No words fell from his lips. He looked at her blankly. Her pacing resumed "My blood _must_ matter to you! But if that's the case, how can you - how can you ..." she was getting a headache. This wasn't going according to plan. She sat back on her chair. She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and massaged her temples. _Calm down, Hermione. _

She felt a warm hand tug gently at her arms. She felt a wave of heat burn its way through her body at his touch. She stiffened.

Misinterpreting, he dropped his hand. "Granger."

Nothing.

"Granger," he persisted.

Nothing.

Malfoy sighed. "_Hermione."_

The sound of her name rolling off his tongue, almost _caressing_ it ... No, that couldn't be right. She jerked her face up to see whether his expression matched his tone. She caught a flicker of emotions cross his face: affection, surprise and then ... blank. Great. So he was going to close off to her now?

"Can I talk now?" He went on, not waiting for an answer. "Yes, I did despise your blood. Yes, I did hate you. A _Mudblood,_" he scoffed bitterly. "What use were you to me? So I taunted you. And enjoyed it."

His words cracked at her like a whip. She couldn't keep the hurt off her face. She stood up, about to leave, when he grabbed her wrist, making her turn around. He stood up, so he was facing her.

"But then," his voice only a soft whisper, his breath blew across her face, "towards the end of the war, my parents didn't fight for him - for Voldemort. They were worried about my whereabouts. _My_ parents! Worried!" His voice sounded disbelieving. "My parents who, before, could only express scorn for those that didn't reach their standards and adoration for Voldemort. But they chose to look for _me._ I hadn't known that they were even capable of such emotion."

He continued, "That taught me something. When Mother found me, the tears on her face ..." he trailed off, remembering.

It was quiet for a moment. Malfoy came back to the present and said, "Salazar, Voldemort ... they initiated the whole 'Pure-blood is king' rule. I decided it wasn't worth it. My parents taught me that. They thought Voldemort wasn't worth it.

"So I tried to start anew this year. It was hard. My pride's very important to me, you see, and accepting those that I had taunted ... it was _hard._" His gaze never left her face.

"And you were the most understanding, even though you won't admit it. I don't even understand why you let me in ... after all that I'd done to you. For _six years._" He shook his head. Malfoy forced himself to say the next few words, "And for that, I'm ... I'm _sorry_."

She looked at him then; _really_ looked at him; she could see that he really was sorry. He stared straight into her eyes. Hermione realized that he was still holding her wrist, and that he was extremely close to her. The hand around her wrist slipped down to lace his fingers with hers. Alarm crossed her features, and her heart began to _pound._ The air sandwiched between them buzzed with the sudden increase in temperature. And her heart pounded on ... Could he hear it?

His other hand slowly trailed up her free arm, planting a path of fire. Her body shivered at his touch. His hand paused atop her shoulder. Malfoy's eyes smouldered, becoming a more intense silver and she could bet her last Galleon that hers could put Dobby's to shame.

No words.

He drew his body closer to her, their bodies an inch apart.

The fingers on her shoulder inched their way to the base of her neck, drawing tiny circles that burned into her skin. She felt his fingers travel up her neck ... to her chin ... to her lips. She froze. His fingers brushed them tenderly, and they parted slightly. She let out the breath that she had been holding, which came out as a sigh.

_Too close ..._

She turned way from him abruptly, suddenly going cold.

He still had her hand.

Pulling her back against his tall frame, he whispered into her ear, "Don't go."

His breath tickled her ear.

He dropped his mouth to the back of her neck, and placed a soft kiss there. _He heard her catch her breath. _He dropped another kiss adjacent to his last one. _He heard her uneven breathing_. His lips brushed her soft skin once more.

He was torturing her.

She couldn't take it anymore, so she whipped around to face him. He gripped her tenderly by the shoulders and pushed her gently against the wall next to their (long-forgotten) table. He looked down into her deep brown eyes, and brought his lips to meet hers.

She inwardly gasped. His lips were so soft and warm! Her mind couldn't function. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

She felt his tongue flick against her lower lip, and she parted her lips to let him in. She sighed contentedly.

Too soon, he pulled away. Hermione felt empty; her lips craving for his. She looked at him perplexed and found alarm clouding his features.

"Sorry," he muttered, and hurried to his room, closing the door behind him.

She touched her tingling lips. Puzzled, she turned to his door and thought, _Sorry?_

-----------------------------------------------------------to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

_**Please review? **_


	4. Game

**Disclaimer: Please. Read previous chapters.**

_**A/**_**N: Thanks so much for all those that are reviewing! Really appreciate it! This chapter was originally combined with chapter 6, but then I realized it would be way too long, so I split it up. Enjoy:D**

**-**--------------------------------------------------------------GAME-------------------------------------------------------------------

_She reached up to touch that white-blonde hair. It looked so soft, so touchable. He pushed her away with brutal force, and her body banged against the wall behind her. She felt a soft trickle of blood ooze its way down her face. But she didn't care about the blood. She didn't even care about the raging pain vibrating in her head._

_She looked up at him towering over her small, fragile body. His eyes flashed dangerously. _

"_Don't you ever even _dare_ try doing that again. Filthy little Mudblood."_

_Filthy little Mudblood. Filthy little Mudblood. Filthy little Mudblood. Filthy little Mudblood..._

Hermione jolted awake, a scream on her lips.

_Just a dream, Hermione, just a dream._

She glanced out her window, the sleepiness in her eyes getting attacked by the harsh sunlight. She stifled a yawn and stretched.

Just then, her door banged open.

Malfoy, shirtless, was indeed a good sight to wake up to. _So beautiful_, she thought, as her eyes travelled down his well-defined chest, following the fine wisps of hair right down to ... She blushed. She tried focusing on his eyes instead, which only ended up rekindling the fire inside her. She sighed, attempting to ignore the burn.

Only after all her musing at his otherworldly beauty, did she notice the wand clutched in his hand.

"I heard screaming," he said, by way of explaining.

"Oh, uh that was me," she said. Then she felt stupid. Who else would be screaming?

He looked at her, his eyes asking the same question.

"Right. Of course it was me. I had a, um, bad dream."

"Oh," he said, visibly relaxing. "I thought -" he stopped.

She had gotten out of bed and was now stretching. His eyes bulged, and then he caught himself. "Do you want to put on a gown or something?"

Confused at his question, she looked down at herself, and gasped loudly. Merlin! She was clad in just her underwear! She felt the rush of heat to her cheeks, and attempted to cover whatever part of her body she could with her hands.

"Uh, could you please excuse me?" Hermione requested, not trusting herself to look at him.

"Not a problem," he said politely, and did as she asked.

_Why is he being so polite? _She wondered, as she hastily slid her gown on. He hadn't even teased her; he didn't even comment on her revealing attire.

She grabbed her wand and muttered, "Indassio!" and her bed made itself up. She had mastered non-verbal spells so perfectly, but right now, she wasn't in the mood for them. She had other things on her mind. Like the events of last night. She shivered at the memory.

His soft hands, his warm lips ... but then suddenly her perfect little bubble popped when she remembered him breaking off the kiss with a "_Sorry"_. But what was he even sorry for?

Hermione compiled a mental list:

Perhaps he was apologizing for all the years he had tormented her? No, he had already done that. Why say it again?

Maybe it was a sorry-I-have-to-go-now kind of sorry. Hmm, possible.

Was he sorry that he kissed her? She went cold at the thought.

_I'll just have to ask him._

She made her way to their Common Room, and spotted him lying on the couch, already clad in his uniform, reading. _Malfoy reads? _She shook her head. _Focus, Hermione_.

She strode up to him, demanding his attention. She looked at him, choosing to forget the underwear incident she just had, and said seriously, "Malfoy, we need to talk." His name tasted sweet on her tongue.

He glanced up at her, and enquired, "Why is it that you seem to want to do a lot of that nowadays?" He went back to his book.

"Malfoy, I'm serious." He didn't look up. She waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, she said, "Look, about last night -"He jerked his head up at that, holding up his hand to effectively cut her off.

Before she could say anything, he said, "Yes, I'm sorry about that. It won't happen again. I took advantage of you, and that wasn't right." She stared at him, dumbfounded.

He closed the book and stood up, stashing it in his bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and strode over to the portrait hole which swung open for him. "Don't be late," he threw over his shoulder. "Classes start in an hour." She nodded dumbly, even though she knew he couldn't see her, and turned around so that she didn't have to see him _go_; to literally walk out on her.

She dragged her feet to the bathroom, feeling the sudden urge to have a steaming hot shower. Whilst she got the water running, she shrugged out of her clothes. Stepping in, she leant her head back so that the water fell directly on her head. It was easier for her to order her thoughts, and when she did she felt tears sting her eyes. So she _was_ right about him being sorry for kissing her after all. It was obvious that he didn't feel what she did last night. She was just another girl, right?

Did he regret it?

Hurt painted her feelings first, then rejection took its place, and finally, rejection moved out of the way to make way for anger. Yes, she very angry, and if he was going to carry on as if nothing happened last night, and act coldly polite towards her, then so would she. Two can play that game.

-----------------------------------------------------------to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

_**A/**_**N: I apologize for the uneventful chapter ... will do better in next one.**

**Please review! You know how I love your reviews!**


	5. Operation Bumfluff

**Disclaimer: Remember in the previous chapters how I mention that I'm not J.K. Rowling? You remember? Great! So I don't have to repeat myself**

_**A/**_**N: Thanks for all your reviews! You guys are the best :D For the colour code, scroll down**

-----------------------------------------------------OPERATION BUMFLUFF------------------------------------------------------

Harry returned from the ingredients cupboard with a cauldron full of ... well, ingredients.

"What, no staring at Hermione and Malfoy today?" he joked.

Ron, however, replied in a very matter-of-fact tone, "Not today, no."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise.

Ron beamed. "Really! I have devised a plan!" He declared dramatically, gesticulating which ended up in knocking most of the ingredients to the ground. "Whoops."

They both bent down to pick it all up. "What do you plan on doing?" Harry asked, genuinely interested.

"I call it _Operation Bumfluff_," Ron said proudly. His hair turned violet.

Harry, who was used to Ron's ever-changing hair colour, raised his eyebrows at his, "Original, mate. And violet's definitely not your colour."

Ron ignored his last comment, and said, "No, seriously! I'm planning on putting it into action this very lesson." He grinned mischievously, his hair turning lavender.

They finally got all the ingredients together and dropped them on the table.

Harry got his Potions book out, and told Ron, "Look, we're practising how to make a Sleeping Draught today, which is a bit tricky, so I'd appreciate it if you'd at least _act_ as though you're my Potions partner."

Ron's hair turned brown. "But I _am_ your Potions partner!" he said, his eyebrows meeting at a V.

"Really? Could've fooled me."

Ron took out a book that was unlike to Harry's. Harry, glancing at the browning cover, furrowed his eyebrows in thought. _It looked so familiar. _Harry racked his brain, but still couldn't come up with a solution. He moved on, and dealt with the situation at hand. "Ron, what are you doing? We're supposed to be referring to _this,"_ he held up his own copy of his _More-than-Advanced Potions_ book.

Ron looked shifty, but tried to cover it up with an offhand look. "I know, but I forgot my copy in my dorm," he said, flipping the fraying-edged pages extremely carefully. "This book has the same potion in here."

Harry peered into Ron's cauldron. "But Ron, those aren't even the ingredients that we need to make the Sleeping Draught Potion. And besides, we're supposed to be working _together." _

"Harry, would you quit whining? You're sounding very much like a clingy girlfriend," Ron said, still flipping the pages carefully.

Harry figured that he wouldn't get a logical response out of Ron while he was paging through that stupid book, so he made a grab for the book. The sudden movement caused Ron to drop the book, startled. The book hit the floor, opening up to a page which let out an ear-splitting shriek.

Something triggered in Harry's memory, at the same time that the whole class erupted in sounds filled with surprise. Yes, a screaming book was definitely not what they were used to in a Potions class.

"_Ron, would you close that bloody book!"_ Harry hissed through his teeth, his hands covering his ears. No wonder Ron had been paging so carefully through it; he was probably trying to avoid _that!_ Ron jumped into action, effectively shutting the book with a loud _snap._ The class let out a relieved sigh, and went back to their cauldrons.

Harry looked pointedly at Ron whose hair was turning green-yellow. He knew he was in trouble. "You brought a book from the Restricted Section?" Harry bit out. He recalled the night in his first year when he had entered the Restricted Section in the library with his Invisibility Cloak on. "_Why?"_

Ron sighed. "Remember Operation Bumfluff?"

Harry nodded.

"Well..."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "You're not going to hurt him are you?"

"Not physically, no."

Harry exhaled loudly. "Good. Now can you do that later? I rather we focus on this Sleeping Draught right now. We're doing the real thing tomorrow." He got back to his potion, and asked Ron to pass him something.

Ron shook his head, and flipped to the correct page in his book. "Sorry, mate. No can do," he said, answering both questions. He began to whistle a merry tune as he dropped a bit of _this_ and a bit of _that_ into his cauldron. The potion sputtered.

Harry looked at him. "Look, if this is about what I said about Lavender last night, I'm sorry. But you know," Harry said thoughtfully, watching Ron stir his potion, "her nostrils do seem to flare quite a bit when she flirts with you. She also tends to go a _bit_ cross-eyed when she rolls her eyes. And have you noticed how her one tooth -"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT LAVENDER, HARRY!" Ron yelled, his hair turning beige. A couple of people in front of them - Malfoy included - turned around to see what the commotion was about.

Harry looked quite taken aback. He said in a hushed voice, "Keep it down, Ron. There's really no need to shout."

"WHO SAYS I'M SHOUTING?" Bits of his potion spat out onto the table. Harry's potion lay completely forgotten.

A figure approached their desk. "Everything alright, Harry m'boy? Mr Weasley?"

Harry leaned over their table, and beckoned Slughorn closer. He whispered, "I think it's something in his potion, Sir."

"ARE YOU SAYING I'M A BAD BREWER, HARRY?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

Slughorn sniffed the air above Ron's brewing spot. "Uh, Mr Weasley, did you by any chance use Murtlap's essence mixed with Doxy venom?

Ron looked shifty, "SO WHAT IF I DID?"

"Oh dear. Well Mr Weasley, that mixture usually results in the brewer's voice to become just a _tad_ amplified, and by the end of the day, that brewer would go slightly deaf." At this, the class burst into laughter, only to be subdued when Ron shot them scathing looks, his hair turning a dangerous black. Only a few giggled, and Slughorn clapped his hands to hush them.

Harry sniggered, and resumed developing his Draught. "I'm guessing that _that,"_ he motioned to Ron's cauldron, "was Operation _Bumfluff_?"

Ron nodded glumly.

"Guess you'll have to find a Plan B then," Harry said (_undeservedly,_ thought Ron) cheerfully.

"WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?" Ron groaned.

Harry flinched from the loud bellowing. "Two things, Ron. One, when you say _always happen to you_, do you mean the whole hair thing, the amplified voice thing and the whole plans-getting blown-up-in-your-face thing? No pun intended." Ron shot a menacing glare at him. "O-kay, take that as a yes, then. And two, could you please write on paper if you wish to communicate? I don't really feel like going deaf right now."

Ron narrowed his eyes to thin slits, and Harry had a sudden image of Voldemort. _Woah, if looks could kill._

Ron pointed his wand at his potion, and muttered "_Scourgify_," and the contents of his cauldron cleared. He sat down heavily on his chair, a grumpy look sporting his face. He rested his head on his forearms which were crossed over on his desk, not caring if bits of Harry's bubbling potion were flying out. Sleeping Draughts could only take affect on the person if it was taken orally.

The only thing that made him slightly satisfied was the way Hermione had angled her chair so that it was as far away as possible from the captain of Bumfluff town.

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Potions Class - Draco's POV

Granger bustled in through the door, her hands stacked with books which she was hastily trying to stuff into her bag. So she _had_ been running late.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor!" Her voice was so _musical_, like a little choir of Veela voices put together.

Slughorn waved her apology off with a wave of his hand. She walked stiffly down the aisle and stood next to me. Hang on, let me rephrase that: She walked stiffly down the aisle and stood _as far away as she possibly could_ from me. "Next to me" would require some form of close proximity, but no, Little Miss Perfect was having none of that.

I scoffed at the thought of her wanting to sit next to me. Why would she, when I had so blatantly taken advantage of her last night? I hadn't even asked her if it was alright to do all the things I had done to her! No wonder she had tried to get away.

She _obviously_ hadn't felt all that I had when I was with her last night. Her heart _obviously_ didn't thump against her ribcage as if it was trying to break free. Her lips _obviously_ didn't feel as though someone had set it alight - but in a good way. Only when I really got into the kiss did I realize that she wasn't moving. At all. Her lips, yes, but maybe that was because I had _forced her to_. So I broke the kiss off. It was for her own good, really.

So now she hated me. And it was all because of one, stupid, thoughtless kiss. Yet it was so wonderful and fantastic. In _my_ mind, that is.

I tried, anyway, to talk to her. To be friendly.

I faced her, and tried to put some warmth into my voice, "Hello, Granger." It came out strangled.

She didn't glance my way, but she gave a stiff nod in my direction, whilst she opened her book to the page number.

I suddenly felt nervous. I couldn't understand how a girl so amazingly beautiful with such a warm heart could hate me. I mean, all girls loved me, right? Yet the one I wanted I couldn't have...

I could see that what I did had hurt her; she tried so hard to keep it off her face, the hurt. So I decided that if it was because of me, which I was unquestionably sure of, then I wouldn't make it worse for her. That much I could do for her.

I would only talk to her if necessary.

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Hermione's POV

The warmth that radiated from him nearly killed me. How could I ignore someone so ... so ... so _devastatingly_ handsome whose scent was so mouth-watering? The same person who could say the funniest of things and make me feel _whole?_

But I had to.

The sound of ingredients crashing to the ground jumped me out of my reverie. _Ron_. I didn't know anyone clumsier than him.

My Potions partner - yes, I was back to refusing to think his name - passed me the ingredients that I - that _we_ - would need for the Sleeping Draught. I was thankful that this was only a practice run. His presence was really putting me off. At the end of the lesson, I was planning to ask Slughorn if I could move someplace else.

I threw the ingredients in with vicious force, causing the potion to slosh around, threatening to spill.

"Granger," he said. "You need to _cut_ them up first."

Whoops.

He sighed and reached to take over. I allowed him. I wasn't going to get in an argument with him. That would involve _talking_. I stiffened at his sudden near presence, and moved further away, and held my breath. He smelt so _good_.

He was about to say something when I heard Ron shout out, "IT'S NOT ABOUT LAVENDER, HARRY!" I sighed. I didn't turn around, but in my peripheral vision, I saw my Potions partner turn. I chose that moment to let out my breath. I angled my chair away from him, trying to not make it look too conspicuous. I sat down on it. He turned back around, and his mouth turned down at one corner, noticing what I had done.

So much for being inconspicuous. _He could see right through me._

The lesson passed by with many interruptions - Ron, of course - but I just couldn't get it out of my head that he could see_ right through me._ And that thought played like a broken record in my head for the rest of the lesson.

-----------------------------------------------------------to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

_Colours_

_Violet: Emotionally excited_

_Lavender: Mischievous_

_Brown: Puzzled_

_Green-yellow: Uneasy_

_Beige: heated emotions_

_Black: angry _

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	6. Ammunition

**Disclaimer: Read previous chapters**

**Thanks to all those people who are reviewing! You guys rock :D **

------------------------------------------------------------Ammunition-----------------------------------------------------------

Hiding, when it wasn't a game, can never be read as a sign of courage.

_And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I'm in Slytherin, _Draco thought bitterly to himself.

Malfoy was hiding in the Heads' Common Room. Not the kind of hiding where the person hides behind a couch and the seeker tries to find him. No, the kind of hiding where the person is hiding from undesirable circumstances. Undesirable circumstances that included a certain Hermione Granger.

He glanced at the clock above her door for the second time in one minute. Nope, it still hadn't changed. It still read six o' clock, which gave him exactly fifteen minutes until she was back.

He wondered over to the big window, and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. The setting sun cast beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow across the clear sky.

_Beautiful_, he thought.

The thought made him think of her and he definitely wasn't too keen on taking yet another trip down Regret Avenue.

He lightly banged his head on the window repeatedly, causing it to vibrate uncomfortably from the unexpected force. He was trying to clear his mind, his attempts, futile.

His eyes swept across the Black Lake and caught the movement of one of the Giant Squid's naked tentacles waving in the air. This elicited many amused laughs from the couple of sixth years scattered across the grass. Several of them - girls mainly - were enjoying the sunset, basking in its beauty.

And then came into view a sight that tickled both his delight and disappointment. Hermione, her lovely chocolate brown locks dancing around her face, was making her way up to the castle's big doors, and on either side of her, Potter and Weasel.

Jealousy dripped like acid through his body, and his hands clenched of their own accord as he watched her link arms with her best friends, laughing at some joke that Weasel had cracked.

He wanted that. _He _wanted to be the reason for the laugh that bounced on her lips. _He_ wanted to be the reason for a smile to light up her angelic features. _He_ wanted to be the one that could go on bold adventures with her, battling whatever demon they faced. _He_ wanted to be the one that she could talk to 'til the wee hours of the morning without getting bored.

He wanted to be the one.

His gaze snapped into focus, and realized too late that the trio had already disappeared into the castle. Five minutes left.

He sighed heavily, his warm breath misting the window so that his perfect view of the sky was now obscured.

He hurried to his room, and shut the door behind him, just in time to hear her clock growl like a lion.

She was here.

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Hermione climbed through the portrait hole, her eyes darting immediately to Malfoy's door.

Closed.

Of course. He was still ignoring her. But she thought that he would have gotten over it by now. It had been, what - three days? - since _the episode_ had occurred.

Frustration hooked her nerves in a tight noose. It was one thing to ignore her, but another to _completely_ avoid her. What was he getting at? Did he think that if he had to look at her, his mind would become corrupted?

But no matter what he thought of her, no matter how much she repelled him, she couldn't stay away from him. Not anymore ... Just goes to show what a small, mind-blowing kiss could do to you.

Even though there was a solid door that separated them, the tension in the air was almost palpable. She dropped her bag on the couch, and decided to head out to the place where she was most happy. Well, _second_ most happy. Now that she knew what being with Malfoy was like - in the complete, non-platonic way... She stopped herself short.

_That's not going to be happening again, Hermione. Say hello to reality._

She went to the library.

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Ron was glad his voice had gone back to its normal volume, and that his partial deafness phase was over. Thank_ Merlin_ for that. It had been a really embarrassing couple of days.

Ron figured that the Restricted Section in the library was designed specifically for people like him. People who end up taking books out of there, unbeknownst to anybody, and who end up messing up the instructions, meeting near-fatal consequences, and then vowing never to return to the Restricted Section in the library again.

But then again, people like him almost always had a backup plan; a Plan B.

Ron wandered over to the Charms Section in the library, trying to make it look natural. Walking around a room which was so quiet you could practically hear the _silence_ disturbed him. He was used to ... well, quite the opposite. With a big family like his, what else was to be expected?

He whistled a soft tune, but stopped when he caught the glowering look of a fifth year sitting at a table a couple good feet away.

Entering the Charms Section, he was met by a staggering number of shelves that were stacked with books right to the very top. Well, he most _definitely_ had a long evening ahead of him. He fingered the spines of the books closest to him, checking to see if any of them felt _right_. Some people go on and on about a certain sense of just _knowing_.

A title, _Spells for the Mentally Retarded_, caught his attention, and he extracted it from its place effortlessly. The age-old dust floated up and wedged itself in his nose. He let out a loud sneeze that startled many, causing a lot of them to spill their ink bottles. The library felt as though it would catch alight from all the heated glares that were sent his way.

He sheepishly turned back to his book, and opened up to the first page. He laughed at the hilarious picture there, and soon got himself absorbed in the book.

"Ron?" an uncertain voice said.

Ron whirled around, shocked at the sudden voice. So shocked, in fact, that he dropped his book. He quickly reached to pick it up before Hermione could see it. He stuffed it in the shelf behind him, and casually leaned against that shelf (effectively hiding the book), acting as if it were his favourite pastime in the entire world.

"Hermione! What can I do for you?" he asked, faking pleasant surprise. Hermione, of all people, was _not _supposed to be there.

Hermione blinked away a look of uncertainty, which was soon replaced by surprise. "I _thought_ it was you! You had your back turned, and there are a lot of people who have red hair just like yours, and a lot who have the same height, and a lot -"

"Plan on getting to the point soon?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then said, doubt filling her tone, "A _library_, Ronald?"

Ron shifted his weight, looking really awkward, and said, "Yeah, I, uh, _sometimes_, come to the library to do, uh -" he spotted a girl writing, "-writing! Yes, writing, that's it." Ron wanted to congratulate himself on his close save, when he instantly regretted saying it.

Hermione looked suspicious. "Writing? What writing?"

"Er, I write the odd poem or two."

"Then what are you doing in the Charms Section?"

_Trying to find something_. "On a break." He made his sentences sound abrupt, so that she got the message.

"Oh, okay then. Well, I'll be off. Need to do some work for McGonagall." And she walked away. _Smart girl, that Hermione_. Ron smiled.

He located his book, and flipped through it, in search of _ammunition_. Harry loved using that word. Ron had no idea what it meant, but he felt it was right to use it now.

Tossing the book aside, he focused his attention on another one, _Wizard Tricks_. He flipped through this one as well, but still reaped no results.

An hour passed, and the library was about to close. His eyes fell on a book that was bright pink and stood out amongst all the others, for obvious reasons. He brought it down and discovered that it was untitled. Once in his hands, the book flipped by itself to a page that was entitled _Soapy Mouth_. When he found he wasn't interested in that one, the pages flipped to another, _Unstoppable Handstands_. Ron imagined Malfoy doing handstands, but the idea didn't really appeal to him. The pages flipped yet again to another page, _Insultus Momentus_.

_Hmm, not bad_, Ron thought as he read through the short description of what the spell did. _Not bad at all_.

He had what he wanted. His ammunition.

------------------------------------------------------------to be continued---------------------------------------------------------

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	7. Insultus Momentus

_**A/**_**N: Thanks to everybody who's reviewing, and to all those that have added **_**War of Words**_** to their story Alerts! I really appreciate it! I'm really loving all your reviews! Hope you like this chapter. It might get a bit confusing towards the end, but it will be explained in Chapter 8. Speaking of chapters, I think this story has 2 more until it's done! Anyway, have fun reading it!**

-------------------------------------------------------INSULTUS MOMENTUS-----------------------------------------------------

After much debating with himself, Draco Malfoy made his decision. He couldn't handle it anymore. He was going to do it. He was going to tell her today. Whether it hailed, whether the sun burnt a hole in the ground he walked on, he was going to do it.

He would just have to wait until after classes to do that.

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Ron didn't read for fun. Bloody hell, Ron didn't know _how_ to read for fun. This was why Harry found it a rather shocking sight to wake up and find his best friend reading a fairly voluminous book - a _bright pink_ one at that. Not knowing if he was still dreaming, he rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, stifled a yawn, and reached for his glasses, and popped them on.

Adjusting them, he glanced back at Ron, who was still reading his book quite intently.

"Ron?" Harry's voice came out quite warbled, due to his sleepy state, "Are you _reading?"_

Ron put the book face down on his duvet cover. "Why is it that people _automatically_ assume that I'm not the library-book-reading type?"

Harry looked perplexed, and was about to answer, when Ron held up a hand, and said, "Don't. Even. _Go_. There."

Harry shrugged, not thinking too clearly, his mind still in another far away place with Ginny. Too bad this place was dreamland.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Ron, who jumped out of bed, with energy that was uncanny for a seventeen year old to have after just waking up - or reading a bright pink book, in Ron's case -and announced, "I'm going to the Great Hall," and with that, he rushed off, unaware of the fact that he was still clad in his pyjamas.

Harry heard a burst of high-pitched giggles floating up from the Common Room, and watched as a red-faced Ron clambered up the stairs. "_Why_ didn't you _tell_ me I was still in my pyjamas!" And he hunted for the spare robes that were sleeping somewhere in his trunk. He rushed to the bathroom, and emerged about a minute later, Harry deciding that it was the quickest bath ever.

"In a rush, Ron?" Harry queried, yawning.

"Something like that," Ron replied, wiggling his eyebrows mysteriously, and he rushed off once again.

Something about the way that Ron was acting made Harry suspicious. He pulled out his Marauder's Map and his wand. Tapping the map lightly with his wand, he muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He opened the map, and searched for his best friend. _Ronald Weasley_ was apparently making his way up to the seventh floor. After a while, the name suddenly disappeared right off the map.

Harry frowned. Why would Ron lie to him? Why would Ron go to the Room of Requirement?

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Ron sighed with satisfaction as the dummy in front of him spouted things that would've drove McGonagall to an early grave. Not that he wanted that of course. He was just so glad that he had finally mastered the spell. Now he just needed the perfect moment to cast it. He grinned maliciously, in spite of himself. _Malfoy, you are going down._

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Hermione gazed longingly at the back of Draco Malfoy's head. She felt like reaching out to stroke the pale-blonde hair that curled at the nape of his neck. She wanted to relieve his shoulders of the stress that was suffocating them. He must have felt her looking at him - something she did often ever since she moved to the back of the class - because he turned slowly around in his chair to lock his gaze onto hers.

The energy that zinged through the air between them did nothing to help her. It was the first time after a whole week since he'd looked at her. It was the first time after a week that she was able to see his beautiful silver eyes - silver eyes that just wouldn't look away. She felt warm all of a sudden, and her body ached to be near his. Pulling herself out of the force his eyes had on her, she snapped her attention to focus on Slughorn's droning voice instead.

But try as she might, her hand wasn't able to take down the notes on Slughorn's lecture on Polyjuice Potion (something she knew full well about). Her gaze kept on straying to Malfoy, who, she noticed, was also not taking down notes. Whether it was out of pure ignorance or laziness, she didn't know. She saw him massage his temples, and worried about what was troubling him. She couldn't even ask him.

Or maybe she could. What would be the worst thing he could do to her if she tried talking to him? Humiliate her in front of everybody else? Yell incredibly nasty things in her face? No, _that_ Malfoy belonged in the past. Maybe she would talk to him after class. In any case, she _did _have a free after Potions and if she wasn't mistaken, so did he.

So lost was Hermione in her thoughts, that she wasn't conscious of the scraping of chairs and the raised chitter-chatter of voices in the air. Class must have ended, then. Realizing what this meant, her heart started to thud loudly. She spotted Malfoy standing up, gathering all his things together. She slowly made her way over to him; people bustling passed her, trying to get to their next class in time.

She came to a stop next to his desk, and cleared her throat, announcing her presence. She didn't want to be the first one to speak.

Draco, sensing her presence, and hearing the faint throat-clearing, looked up, not daring to believe what he was seeing.

"Hermione," he breathed.

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Draco's POV

I couldn't believe it. There she was, the girl that had been occupying my thoughts for the past week. I stared at her, noticing a few strands that managed to extricate themselves from her lovely hair. My fingers ached to tuck them behind her ear, but I clenched my firsts, restraining them.

She looked nervous, and I wondered why.

"We need to, um, talk," she muttered, breathlessly.

Her voice sent shivers down my spine, and I fought with myself to gain control, clenching my fists more tightly.

I hadn't planned on talking to her this soon, but I might as well face the music.

"Sure," I replied, staring at her intently, searching he ryes to see if she regretted voicing her request. She didn't.

I gestured for her to follow me, and I walked out of the classroom and down the corridor, turning my head this way and that, in search for an empty classroom. I finally found one, and motioned towards it so that she entered it first. I didn't bother to close the door behind me; most people were in their next class by now.

We stood there; Hermione by the desk, and me by the door. I wanted to close the space between us, but refrained from doing so. She might not want that.

"I, uh, would just like to know -" she said, at the same time that I said, "Look, I really need to -"

We stopped, waiting for the other to finish their sentence. When neither one of us said anything, I started up again and said, "Look, I really need to know how you're feeling. I'm not too sure why you just stopped talking to me, but -"

I was cut off by her, "_You're not too sure_?" She asked in a low whisper, her eyes glinting dangerously. I took a step back, surprised. Where had this sudden anger come from?

"_You're not too SURE?"_ she repeated loudly. "Oh, of _course_ it wasn't because you _apologised_ for kissing me!" She stepped closer to me. "Of _course_ it wasn't because you completely _regretted_ doing it!" Her words flied quickly into my head, and I felt confused.

She stopped talking to me because I apologised for kissing her? She thought I regretted it? I started shaking my head, willing her to stop. "Hermione-" I began.

She prodded my chest with her finger. Her touch, even though slightly painful, affected many senses of mine. "Do you even _know_ how humiliated I felt? Do you even _know _what it felt like to be shrugged off by you, as if I was just another one of your flings? Do you even _know -_" she broke off, tears filling her eyes.

I couldn't handle it anymore, so I reached out and grabbed her shoulders with my hands and brought her close to me. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I thought that you didn't ... I thought that you didn't like ... that you weren't comfortable with what I was doing." My sentences were incoherent, and I wondered if she understood what I meant. To make myself clearer, I pulled away, still holding onto her delicate shoulders, and I was about to say something when I felt an odd sensation pass through me. Trying to shrug it off, I tried talking to her again, but that odd sensation was still there.

In my peripheral vision, I saw a flame of red hair rush passed the doorframe. I tried talking again to Hermione, who was looking up at me, confused.

What came out of my mouth was completely unexpected though.

"Get away from me you filthy little Mudblood."

----------------------------------------------------------to be continued-----------------------------------------------------------

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	8. Explosions

_**A/**_**N: Alright! The story's almost done! Guys, please please please review? Even if it's just one word? Please?!**

-------------------------------------------------------------EXPLOSION--------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stared up at Malfoy, eyes full with disbelief, and stuttered, "W-what did you say?"

Draco himself looked ready to slap himself and his mouth dropped in astonishment. He hadn't meant to say that at all. "No! What I meant to say was-" he felt something grip his tongue tightly. "Get the _hell_ away from me, you foul-smelling witch!"

Hermione stumbled away from him, hurt colouring her eyes. "Dr-Malfoy, I thought you -"

"You're lucky to be born beautiful, whereas I am lucky to be born a great liar!"

Draco clapped his hands over his mouth willing himself to stop talking. The sound made a snapping, sharp noise that reverberated off the walls in the silent classroom. Draco didn't know what had come over him. Was he possessed?

His eyes wouldn't leave Hermione's as he noticed wounded shock quickly collecting there. Could she not tell this was not him?

Hermione shot a hurt look at him and ran out the door. Draco followed her, and said, "Hermione, wai - You are no better than a Squib with a brain half the size of a Doxy's!" Draco's eyes widened at what he had just said, but Hermione didn't notice. She took off at top speed down the corridor; the force of the air she ran against untangled her hair from her pony.

Draco watched her go, trying to wrap his head around the situation. It seemed that whatever he had wanted to say was coming out as something from a parallel universe. If he could only _focus_ on what he was trying to say. _Hermione needed to stop. She needed to listen to him. Hermione needed to stop. She needed to listen to him. Hermione needed to stop. She needed to listen to him. Hermione needed to stop. She needed to listen to him. . ._

He took off after her, willing the words to form in his head. Once he caught sight of her beautiful brown hair, he ran faster, until he was mere feet away from her. He stopped, panting.

"Hermione!" She turned around at the sound of her name, and looked fearfully at Draco.

He tried to focus on his words, gritting his teeth, "Please. Would. You -" _Almost there._ "Lis - Please would you tell me why you are a bloody reeking piece of toe rag that's controlling the mind of a retarded Flobberworm?"

Draco could've screamed out in frustration! He felt like kicking himself a thousand times over, but knew that if he did that, he would _really _look like a raving lunatic. _Where_ the hell was this all coming from?

He stood frozen, watching her walk away from him _again_, too weak to run. He watched her body shake and knew that it was because of him.

He was Draco Malfoy. And Draco Malfoy _never_ gave up.

He didn't run after her this time. He called out from where he was standing, "Granger, you need to unders - Someone said you are not fit enough to sleep with trolls. I stuck up for the trolls."

Before either of them could react to this last remark, they heard brisk footsteps approaching. Draco whipped his head around to see McGonagall. She halted near the two of them. Her eyes quickly darted between the two students, picking up on the tension in the air. "Miss Granger? Is Mr Malfoy troubling you?"

Hermione shook her head resolutely.

Draco gaped at her. His heart filled with warmth as he realized that Hermione had just prevented him from getting into deep trouble despite the many awful things he had spat in her face.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose in doubt. She turned to Draco. "Mr Malfoy?"

Draco grasped the chance to say something _right_. "Oh, definitely not, Professor. Granger can't help being a pathetic excuse for a witch - even a Mudblood at that."

If Draco was able to, he would have bitten off his tongue then and there. He seethed in silence, choosing to become fascinated with the speck of dust at his feet rather than look up and glimpse Hermione's face sting with hurt.

"I _beg_ your pardon, Mr Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall queried in a stern voice. She didn't wait for an answer. "Such barbaric language is not to be used on Hogwarts' grounds - or _anywhere_ for that matter. Ten points from Slytherin."

Draco tried to work up his defence, "Professor, don't you think -" and again he felt something vile grip his tongue, "-Do you still love nature, despite what it's done to you?"

Humiliation flickered across the professor's features, before her face settled once again into its usual stiff composure. "Another ten points, Mr Malfoy, and I'll be seeing you in my office this evening for detention. Eight o' clock. No wand." She strutted off, with her head held high.

Draco wrung his hair with his fingers. He really couldn't take it anymore. _I think it's best if I just don't talk,_ he thought miserably. And to think it took him this long to come up with that solution.

Hermione gazed at him, many emotions flashing across her face. The hint of humiliation - a result of all his insults - were still there; there was the anguish that caused Draco's body to ache; there was a touch of torment; but the one that surprised him the most, was the faint understanding that was almost hidden under all of that.

_Understanding? Did she _know_? No, she couldn't have_, he thought, **I**_ don't even know._

The bell sounded for end of class and that's when Hermione muttered in a barely audible voice, "Alright then, Malfoy."

_Alright?! What the hell was alright?!_ he yelled out mentally.

He continued to stare at her mutely, not daring to utter a word. She misread his silence as indifference, and turned away, melting into the crowds of students that were now pouring out of the classrooms.

Draco remained where he was standing. Hoards of students barged passed him, eager to get to the Great Hall for lunch. After a full ten minutes, he mused quietly to himself.

"It's not me talking. It's ... something else. Like a ... spell or a curse, or ..." he trailed off, still thinking aloud. "Hang on a second," he glanced round quickly, making sure no one was there. "This ... _thing_ ... only seems to rear its head around other people. I can't very well say nasty things to myself ... unless I look in a mirror?"

"Talking to yourself, Malfoy?" a voice called out.

Malfoy whipped his head around. At the rate he was going at, he was bound to have whip-lash. Spotting the owner of the voice, he felt his mouth curl in something contrasting to pleasure at Weasel's presence.

"Ugh, Weasel. I'm busy right now. Can I ignore you some other time?" Draco definitely didn't feel any regret about voicing these insensitive words. It wasn't that he _hated_ Weasel; he just ... liked him the least of everybody else.

"What, so now the middle of an empty corridor is your 'private space'?" Ron mocked.

Draco gritted his teeth in irritation. The daft idiot didn't even _look_ offended at Draco's last comment. "Correction. It was empty before _you_ chanced upon me here, you tomato-haired mental midget."

Ron's hand flew to his chest dramatically, and he verbalized in mock hurt, "Why, Malfoy, you know the _nicest_ of things to say!" Malfoy felt like pummelling Ron's grinning face to a pulp.

"Weasel, could you just take your sorry arse to another place where it is appreciated? Oh wait, I'm sure that not even _Lavender_ would appreciate it."

The buffoon still showed no signs of offence, though Draco _did_ see him flinch at the mention of Lavender's name.

However, as much as it was in Draco's nature, he didn't feel like spurring the fire of insults. He simply turned away, realizing that it was going to take a long time to get rid of Weasel. However, Ron wasn't done with him yet. He heard Ron call out, "So how is she taking it?"

That stopped Draco. He rotated slowly, his eyes coming to rest on Ron. "So how is _who_ taking it, Blubber-arse?" he repeated.

Ron smirked. "Hermione, of course."

Draco's eyes widened with comprehension, and then narrowed. Without saying anything, he spun on his heel, and stalked over to the Slytherin dungeons, trying to figure out how to reverse the spell Ron Weasley had casted on him.

---------------------------------------------------------to be continued------------------------------------------------------------

_**A/**_**N: This chapter really wasn't that great, but I'd be glad if you click the button that says Review this Story/Chapter ... yup, just like that ... Perfect!**


	9. Green and Gold

_**A/**_**N: Sorry about the really really late update! I've just been so caught up with school work, it's unimaginable! So please review? This is definitely my second-to-last chapter, and I'd sincerely appreciate it if you could review? And thanks to everybody who's been reviewing! You guys totally rock my world!**

---------------------------------------------------------GREEN AND GOLD---------------------------------------------------------

Two torturous days had passed, and the spell that Ronald Weasley had cast upon Draco still hadn't been lifted. Draco had taken to carrying on in muted silence, taking to writing notes instead of talking. He'd researched just about every book he could lay his hands on, and his results proved futile. He couldn't even ask Madam Pince without insulting her senseless.

The absence of Hermione's scent and her deep brown eyes made him feel as if a part of him was missing, and he needed it back - immediately. He hadn't the faintest idea whether she was avoiding him or whether the girl had some ulterior motive, but whenever he walked into their Common Room, she was not in sight, but he could almost definitely hear the faint scratching of a quill against parchment coming from her room. And that time they accidently bumped into each other in the library? She muttered an incoherent sentence and walked away in the opposite direction.

He was trying to fight this ... this _thing_, and he was quite sure he wasn't improving. He took to drawing tiny sketches of her, never completing them. He always felt as if his drawings weren't doing any justice to her, so he scrunched them up, and tried to make the next one better, something that could come close to her perfection.

He sat now, sketching, leaning against the headboard of his bed. His tongue stuck out slightly out the side of his mouth, the way it usually did when he was drawing. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to draw the wave her hair usually created when she laughed. Making a mistake, he waved his wand so as to undo it.

While he was drawing, he thought about ways he could get back at the red-headed weasel, but then realized that if he was to sabotage one of Hermione's best friends, it wouldn't help matters.

His quill dragged along the contour of Hermione's mouth slowly, and he wished with all his might that things between him and her were different.

He heard a timid knock on his door, and the sound snapped him out of his musings. His thoughts lingered on the identity of his visitor. Was it even possible? Was it really her? He dragged himself off the bed, ruffling his hair. There was nothing he could do about his messed up hair; it was sticking up all over the place.

He slowly pulled himself to the door, and the door opened. _Do not insult. Do not insult. Do not insult_. He pressed his lips into a tight line, and gazed at the girl before him. He was right, his sketches did no justice to her; she was perfection incarnate. There were those big brown eyes he'd missed, and that intoxicating scent. He breathed her in deeply, trying not to be too obvious.

But Hermione barged straight into his room, not even waiting for a greeting or a "Would you like to come in?"

She had a pile of books stacked in her arms, and tendrils of hair were flying around the sides of her face. There were purple-like shadows under her eyes, but at that moment, she looked like the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

"Don't talk. I think you might regret it." That was it. Straight out. Plain and simple. To the point.

He stared wordlessly at her. He still couldn't believe that she was in his room of all places.

"Thanks," she said, and then she smiled. Her smile did marvellous things to Draco, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling back at her. He wanted to say something to her, but thought it wise if he just did as he was told - for once - and not talk.

She motioned towards the chair by his desk in his room for him to take a seat. _She_ was asking _him_ to take a seat in _his _room? Malfoy wanted to laugh at the thought, but obeyed her wordless half-command anyway.

She dropped the stack of books on his desk, ad they made a dull _thump_ noise as they hit the desk.

"I've been doing some research and I found that all these books have your answer in them." She started to pace up and down in front of him, and the action reminded him of something that he did, but only when he was nervous...

She glanced at him, and said, "I know that _something_ was done to you, because I'd like to think that I've gotten to know you a bit better, and that you wouldn't insult m - uh, McGonagall - like how you did, or anybody for that matter. Not now, anyway. And your expression didn't even match with your words, so that also meant something ... And every time you said something, you'd get this look in your eyes ..." She cut herself off, realizing that she was speaking too much. She blushed as her eyes met his, and she quickly averted her eyes.

"Anyway, I do hope that you weren't given a potion, because those are rather horrible to reverse. And also to make such a potion would require a lot of advanced magic, and I don't think ..." She trailed off, not knowing how to complete her sentence. "So I think that perhaps it was a spell that was cast upon you. But then again, there are many spells that can reap such results. But in those books there," here she nodded her head in the direction of the books on his table, "should help. It will take some time to go through them, and a lot of the counter-spells are difficult. But you're clev - you'll know what to do, so ..." She stopped her pacing, and she found herself staring out the window.

Draco gazed at her, dumbfounded. She had dark circles under her eyes because of _him?_ She researched all of this for_ him?_ She _knew?_ She must have if she had done all of this. She wasn't avoiding him. Not at all. He smiled inwardly, and he felt like dancing on the spot right there. He still wanted to say something, to thank her.

When she looked back at him, she interpreted the look correctly in his eyes, and said quietly, "You're welcome." She gazed at him for a moment longer, before tearing her eyes away from his bright silver ones. Her gaze landed on his bed, and she fought a gasp.

Malfoy followed her stare with his own eyes, and cringed. He had forgotten to put his sketch of her away. There it was, openly screaming his feelings for her. He looked at her quickly, wanting to gauge her reaction, to find that she was still looking at the piece of parchment, a small smile playing on her lips. His eyes didn't leave her, and when she finally turned to face him, she blushed under his heated gaze.

"Um, I'm going to go now. You should... you should, um, go through those." He had forgotten about the books temporarily, but he nodded and smiled in response. He grabbed his wand and waved it in the air in front of him. A smoke of green and gold shot out of his wand, and swirled around to form the words, _Thank you_. He wasn't only thanking her for the books. But she didn't need to know that.

His eyes stayed on her, and she smiled. She stared at the words a moment longer and walked away, closing the door gently behind her.

Hermione hurried to her room, and closed her door. She threw herself onto her cool bed, and attempted to slow down her thudding heart. She still felt so warm. The way he _looked_ at her... She just couldn't get over how he managed to conjure up those words, an image of green and gold - like two halves brought together.

_**Hope you liked this chapter! Review please! **_


	10. Parchment and Quill

_**A/**_**N: Uhhh, okay so I **_**know**_** I said this chapter was going to be the last chapter, but honestly, it's not. Don't get irritated:D So here's the deal: Since I obviously don't know when this story is going to end, when you see the words **_**The End**_**, it shall be the end. So here's to a few more chapters :D**

-----------------------------------------------Parchment and Quill---------------------------------------------------

Draco thumbed absent-mindedly through yet another book, his eyes only briefly scanning the pages. This book wouldn't hold a _smidge_ of the information that he required; he could feel it. Sure it mentioned spells that caused the victim to utter absolutely rubbish - insults included - but he couldn't find any counter-spells. He didn't know what Hermione was talking about when she said that he'd find them in these books. He was close to giving up, but his thoughts rested upon the knowledge that if he didn't do this, he won't ever be able to speak to Hermione again without emotionally hurting her.

He groaned in frustration. It was nearing midnight and sleep was starting to override his senses. _I need some fresh air,_ he thought. He rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes and stifled a yawn as he got up from his chair. He walked towards his window, and threw it open. The cool air greeted him happily, and tousled his hair. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of night. He stared up into the sky, a black blanket dotted with stars. The moon was at its peak now, full and white. Draco briefly marvelled at its beauty, and thought that the moon's beauty paled in comparison to Hermione's.

These soothing thoughts and the cool night breeze aroused Draco from his sleepy state. He left his window open, and instead of heading back to sit by his desk, he grabbed a few books that he still hadn't gone through and went to the dimly lit Common Room. Draco caught his breath, and he felt a burn spread through his body. Sprawled on the couch, in all her heavenly beauty, was Hermione.

She had fallen asleep, and there was a book propped open on her chest. Her body was twisted in an awkward position unbeknownst to Hermione. _She's probably going to wake up feeling quite sore,_ Draco thought. Would she wake up if he carried her to her room? He stood by his door, still gazing at the sound-asleep Hermione. _Well, I hope not, _he thought, as he made his way over to her sleeping body, leaving his pile of books at the foot of his door.

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Hermione's POV:

I knew that I was dreaming. For one, it was snowing in my dream, and some part of me knew that it was summer. And another, Draco Malfoy was holding my hands, staring into my eyes. We were in the Three Broomsticks, sharing a Butterbeer. He had his Slytherin scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, and I was leaning into him for warmth. He was whispering into my ear, and I giggled in response to whatever he was saying. His silver orbs burned into my eyes, and even though I was in dreamland, a land where one couldn't possibly feel strong emotions, my heart thudded against my chest, almost aching to get out. His face drew closer to mine, and I locked my eyes shut, preparing myself for the moment when our lips would touch...

I jolted awake. Well, I _thought_ I was awake. Why was his face so near to mine? I could almost reach out and touch his hair. Maybe I _was_ still dreaming. Why was he carrying me though? I don't remember that happening in my dream. Oh well, who cares? I'm still dreaming. I sighed in content and smiled happily up at him. My smile seemed to freeze on my face when I noticed that he wasn't smiling back. Alarm was stretched across his features. I glanced left and right, taking in my surroundings. I was in the Common Room, in Draco's arms. I noticed a book on the couch, and realized I must have fallen off to sleep reading it. Which means ... Which means that I'm awake...?

Whoops. I had just made a complete fool of myself by smiling up at him like some lovesick puppy. How embarrassing. A blush flooded my cheeks.

I tried to scramble out of his arms, and in my sleepy state, I temporarily forgot that I was in his arms, being carried. The sudden movement must have caught him off guard, because his hold on me slipped, and we both crashed to the floor.

"Ow," I said, my voice crusted over with sleep. I looked over to him, and noticed that his eyes were closed. He opened them a few seconds later, and looked at me. Our bodies were inches apart, a fact which I think he realized, for he jumped up so quickly, you'd think I had some kind of infectious disease. He grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment that was lying on the table. He scrawled something on it, and gave the parchment to me. I, too, stood up, but sat on the couch that was nearest to me. I read what he wrote:

_Sorry for waking you up. You were sleeping in an awkward position, so I was going to leave you in your bedroom. Sorry._

He had now chosen to sit on the couch opposite me.

"It's alright. Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful. He was too good to be true.

He looked away, and then back towards me. He motioned for me to hand him back the piece of parchment. I handed it to him, and his hand flew across it, writing another message. He handed it back to me.

_You should sleep. You look really tired. It's very late._

"I'm not that tired, really. What are you doing up so late?" I asked, changing the subject. Truth was that I was really tired, but any opportunity to talk to him, or be with him, I readily took. I was becoming that desperate...

I think he was getting tired of having me to reach right over to hand him the parchment, so he made his way over to where I was sitting, and gestured toward the open space next to me on the couch - he was asking permission to sit next to me. I nodded, and he sat down. The close proximity made my heart race, and I tried to calm it down.

He took the parchment from me, and wrote something else on it. I read what he wrote, this time not taking the parchment from him.

_Don't lie. You __**are**__ tired. And I was just trying to finish all the books you gave me._

"Oh, how's it going with that?" I chose to ignore that he knew that I was lying. I was also genuinely interested to find out the answer to my question.

He shrugged his shoulders in response.

"No luck?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Would you like me to help?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

He looked at me, and held my gaze until I looked away. I heard the quill scratch against the parchment. He slid the parchment onto my lap. I looked down.

_I would like you to sleep. Don't worry, I'll figure it out._

"No, no. I'm wide awake. Bright as day!" I said. But thinking about sleeping made me yawn, and I battled to stifle it. He wasn't fooled. He rolled his eyes, and I sighed. I was fighting a losing battle.

"Fine. But seeing that tomorrow is Saturday, I'll help, okay?"

He smiled in response, and I took that as a yes. I got up, swaying slightly on the spot. He shot out a hand to steady me, and I froze at the contact. He drew back his hand immediately. He got up to retrieve his books from his door. I watched as he sat back down on the couch, opening the first book. Noticing I was still standing there, he looked up at me as if to say, _What? Aren't you going to go now?_

I shook my head, and asked another question.

"Before I go, I need to ask you something," I said.

He didn't say anything, and I had a feeling he knew what I was going to ask.

"Who did this to you?" I whispered.

He still didn't say anything. He just carried on looking at me.

"Draco? Please tell me," his name tickled my lips. I'd been wondering about the spell-caster for a long time.

Something flickered across his face. I wasn't too sure whether it was in response to his name, or the urgency in my tone.

I walked slowly towards him and sat down on the arm of the chair. I didn't feel like sleeping.

"I just want to know. Please tell me?" It came out like a question.

He shook his head slightly.

"Why not?"

Again, he shook his head, and focused his attention on his book instead.

I wondered why he didn't want to tell me. Was it because he just didn't want to? Or was there another reason? I stared at the fireplace.

After about five minutes, with him still not telling me anything, I got up. I walked towards me door, and just as I was about o open it, I heard the familiar scratching against parchment. I stood still, not wanting to turn around. Moments later, a parchment-dove perched itself on my shoulder. I took it, and gently opened it.

_You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Trust me; you're better off not knowing._

I whirled around to face him. His face was sombre.

"I will believe you."

He shook his head again, more insistent than the last time.

"Please," I whispered.

He heaved a sigh and brought out his wand and waved it. The paper in my hands crumbled to ash, and soon it was slipping through my fingers to the floor. I looked up at him, confused. He waved his wand again, and the ash-paper shaped itself into letters on the floor. My mouth dropped open in shock as I saw the name forming.

_RON WEASLEY_

"No," I said, the denial hardly slipping off my tongue. Could this have been Ron's idea of a joke?

Draco's eyes were filled with sadness. He probably thought that I didn't believe him.

"No, I believe _you. _ I just don't believe Ronald." I shook my head in disgust. "Are you sure he did this?"

Draco nodded.

"Okay, thank you for telling me." I turned around again, and walked into my room, shutting the door softly behind me.

It took a while before I was able to sleep, but sleep I did.

**Please review! Your reviews are what makes this story go on!**


	11. Emotion

_**A/**_**N: Again, thanks for the *fab* reviews! You guys are doing a great job! This isn't really one of my best chapters, but nonetheless, hope you enjoy it ^_^ **

--------------------------------------------------------------EMOTION---------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up early the next morning. I wanted to pay a visit to Ronald. I crawled out of bed, had a quick shower, and ran a brush through my untamed hair. Draco wouldn't be up now, it was too early. My footsteps made sharp contact with the corridor as I hurried towards Gryffindor Tower. The portrait swung open for me.

A roll of nostalgia swept over me as I glanced around my former Common Room. Six years I had spent in this tower ... I shrugged off the memories, and raced up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. I found Ron and Harry's shared room. Even better, I found the boy that has been the main cause of Draco's problems. His body was in the position of a ballerina on his bed, and he was snoring loudly, his mouth was wide open. I marched towards his bed, and shook his shoulders none too gently.

"Wha-Hermione!" Ronald said, waking up, trying to pull the sheets up to cover his body. "What are you doing here?" He was trying to shout, but his sleepiness prevented that. "You're not supposed to be in here! This is the _boys'_ dormitory!"

I narrowed my eyes. "You're one to talk about rules! Done any _curse_-casting recently, Ronald?"

Ronald's face turned a deep shade of red. "Don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, averting his eyes.

I towered over him. "You know _very_ well what I'm talking about, Ronald Weasley! And don't you _dare_ try to deny it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated.

I pinched his arm, and he let out a yelp. "Hermione! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

I pretended to ponder this, "Hmmm, let me see. Perhaps the fact that you cursed the Head Boy? Or maybe it's the fact that you _cursed_ _someone at all!"_

I wasn't doing a good job of keeping my voice down.

A drowsy voice floated from the other side of the room, "Hermione? Is everything okay?"

"No, Harry, everything is _not _okay."

"Oh, uh..." Harry obviously didn't know what to say.

"Why don't you ask our _dear_ friend Ronald?" I asked.

Before Harry could say anything, Ron said, "Look, Hermione, I didn't like the way he was treating you - "

"Treating me! And how, exactly, was he _treating_ me?"

Ronald looked uncomfortable. "Well, for starters, he was being very nice to you, and he wouldn't stop smiling and - "

"Since when has being _nice_ and _smiling_ attribute towards the unfair treating of people?" I exploded.

"But this is _Malfoy_, Hermione. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word nice."

Harry's head was bouncing between the two of us, like watching a game of tennis, but I paid no attention to him.

"People _change_, Ronald!" I said, fighting the urge to hit him.

"Are you ... Are you on _his_ side?"

"Wow, you're like a mini Einstein!" I exclaimed sarcastically.

Ron looked baffled. "Sorry, who?"

I threw my hands up into the air. "Never mind! Look, Ronald, the point is that what you did was very _wrong_, and you need to apologize to him, because he is suffering -"

Ronald guffawed.

"It's not _funny,_ Ron!"

He rolled his eyes.

By now, I couldn't stand his nonchalant attitude. I swooped down upon him, and punched his arm. Once my fist made contact with his arm, he let out a wolf-like yelp. I was smug as I saw him try to stifle a wince. Wisely, he chose not too say anything.

I looked at Harry, silently urging him to say something. Harry, however, was still trying to make sense of the conversation.

"Hang on," he said, sitting up properly in his bed. He put on his glasses and turned towards Ron. "You mean, _this_ is Operation Bumfluff?"

"Operation Bumfluff _Two_, mate," Ron grinned. I so badly wanted to wipe that grin off his face. I hadn't the faintest idea what Operation Bumfluff even was, but I wasn't done with Ron yet.

"You tell the Head Boy you're sorry-"Ron rolled his eyes,"-or else..." I trailed off, thinking.

Ron rolled his eyes again. "Or else, what, Hermione? You're going to take ten points from Gryffindor?"

The answer popped into my head and I grinned triumphantly. "Or else, I shall tell Lavender about your true intentions for her."

Ron's eyes widened. "You wouldn't," he whispered.

I merely looked at him. He heaved a sigh, and said resignedly, "Fine, I'll do it." He sounded like a child whose favourite toy had been stolen from him.

He sat up in his bed. "Why do you care so much anyway? You never liked him remember?"

"People change, Ron," I repeated. "And Draco did. He's... nice, he means what he says, he keeps his promises, and he's sincere ... People change." I thought back to all the things that Draco had done since the end of the war, the way he acted.

A few moments had passed until I noticed that there was a palpable silence hanging in the air. I looked at Ron, whose mouth had dropped open, and then over to Harry whose eyebrows were raised slightly.

"What?" I asked.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Harry asked quietly.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not. And love is a strong word."

"But you had this _look_ in your eyes when you said his name," Ron said.

"Ronald, grow up. And go apologize to him." This earned an incoherent grumble from him.

I left shortly after that, making my way to the Heads' Tower. I thought back to what Harry had said. Was I really in love with Draco?

Surely I didn't know him well enough to fall in love with him? There are many things about him that I love, though ... The way he scratches his nose when he's thinking, the way he speaks really quickly when he's nervous, the way he impatiently tries to repeatedly brush away the blonde lock of hair that always falls into his eyes ... I stopped myself short. What was I even _saying_?

I hadn't realized that I was standing outside our portrait hole. I muttered the password, and it swung open so that I could go inside.

I spotted him sitting on the two-seater, a book propped open on his lap.

"I spoke to Ronald," I declared, as the portrait door swung shut behind me.

He didn't bother looking up, but he acknowledged what I said by letting out a small "humph."

I walked towards the place he sat, "Well, at least I got it _done_. He should come apologize to you, and when he does, _try_ to act mature," I said teasingly.

He merely laughed at what I said, his teeth flashing a pearly white. The sound surprised both of us, and it made my senses tingle. It sounded so perfect. I giggled nervously, and tried to cover up by saying, "So how's the research going?"

He shrugged.

I threw him a worried look. "Not good, huh? Well, I said I'd help you, so let me help you," I said. His mouth turned down on one side, and I had a pretty good idea that he was reacting to something that I'd said. I rolled my eyes. Boys and their pride. "Not _help_, per se. I'd just like to _assist_ you with a job that you just happen to be hopelessly failing at." At that, he let out a soft laugh, and the sound affected me marvellously.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you here?" I asked tentatively, motioning towards the empty space on his left-hand side. I wasn't too sure whether he'd shoo me away. He looked up at me and simply nodded. I let out the breath of air I hadn't realized that I'd been holding, and settled myself, keeping a safe distance between us - well as far of a distance I could allow, given the fact that it was two-seater.

"So, where are the rest of the books?" I asked, glancing around, my eyes coming up with nothing.

He had resumed with his reading, so he vaguely motioned to someplace on my left. I looked to my left, on the arm of the chair, and found nothing. "Er, sorry, where?"

He sighed impatiently, and before I knew it, he reached right over me to grab the pile of books at the foot of couch that I hadn't noticed. I felt the heat rush to my face, as well as the heat that he was emanating. And my heart _pounded_. While he was bending over, the loose shirt that he was wearing had fallen slightly away from his chest ... and the sight that greeted my eyes made me catch my breath. His body, from what I could see, was incredibly well-defined. The years of Quidditch training were too generous. And his scent ... he smelt ... _clean_; no hint of anything artificial, just the subtle smell of his shampoo lingered. He smelt pure. I couldn't think of another word to describe his scent. Could I have really been in love with him?

To my dismay, he started straightening up. Whether he noticed my stiff composure whilst he was bending over me, or the sad sigh that escaped my lips when he straightened back up, he didn't comment. Instead, he handed me the books that he had already looked through. He looked at me as if to say, _Good luck finding anything._

I lifted my chin stubbornly in the air as I said, "Who's to say that I might find something you missed?" He scoffed, and I smiled. But my smile turned to a confused frown as I recalled my earlier question. Am I in love with Draco Malfoy?

-----------------------------------------------------------to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

**Review please! Please please! ***she said, trying not to sound way too desperate*


	12. Confusion

**A/N: **Here's another chapter! Hope you guys kinda like it! And thanks for the reviews!

-------------------------------------------------------------Confusion----------------------------------------------------------------

Draco's POV

I wasn't denying it anymore. Yes, I fancied Hermione Granger. And I was trying to gauge whether she liked me too. Even though I was practically a mute, it didn't mean I couldn't _indirectly_ charm her. Many have fallen prey to my charm, but that mainly happened whilst I was speaking. So now I resort to subtle charm. And by subtle charm I mean casually leaning over her, like last night's incident, or looking at her in a _certain_ way where she knew exactly what I was thinking.

And I was starting to get the feeling that she returned the affection. Why else would she blush whenever I looked at her _that _way? Why else would her breathing stop when she was near me? Why else would she try to look everywhere else except at me when she went silent near me, and hadn't the faintest idea of what to say next? Did she really think that all of this had gone unnoticed?

And I enjoy every second of it.

I love the fact that I have some sort of affect on her. Sadly, I haven't a clue _why_ I have such an affect on her. Surely she would rather go for Potter? She's known him far longer than she's known me, and for that I envy him. And _the other one_? I believe that she and Weasel had a fling of sorts, but that fizzled out. So who does that leave?

Hopefully me, right?

Merlin, I sound so desperate.

Today's Sunday, thankfully. Hermione wants to do more research with me, and to that I am not complaining.

I got out of my bed and stretched. Walking over to my mirror, I yawned. I slept quite late last night. Hermione had gone off to bed at around midnight, but my turn only came two hours later. I just _cannot_ find any solution to my problem! It is so frustrating!

_Will today be the day?_ This thought buzzes through my head almost every morning when I wake up - since _the incident_. I hope that today will be the day when I can speak properly. Without insulting anybody. Especially those that I love. An image floated through my mind: deep brown curls, and chocolate-y eyes.

Woah. Where did _that_ come from? I shook my head, trying to clear it. A shower was what I needed.

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I spent the rest of the morning in my room doing a bit of extra homework. Hermione hadn't come back yet from wherever she had gone to. The clock in the Common Room displayed the time when she'd be here: twelve o' clock midday. Lovely.

At about a quarter-to-twelve, I took up my usual spot on the couch in the Common Room, leaving my sketches in a neat pile on my desk in my room.

I rested my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes. Ah, it was so peaceful. My thoughts were comforted by images of Hermione. Hermione laughing, Hermione thinking, Hermione writing, Hermione sleeping ...

"Um, Draco?" a timid voice asked.

I smiled. Ah, Hermione saying my name. She was here.

I opened one eye, and saw her. She decided to wear casual clothes today, not her usual robes. I had to open my other eye to fully appreciate her. She was wearing a deep blue jersey, one that hugged her body; and jeans. My heart sped up a bit, and I wasn't too sure whether she knew that I was, what my friends in America would say, "checking her out".

I cleared my throat with difficulty, and tried to produce what I thought was a dazzling smile. It seemed to have worked, because she blushed and looked down at her toes, and at that I smiled wider.

She took a step closer to me. "I think I, um, _might_ have _possibly_ got your answer." She bit her lip, and nervously looked up at me.

My heart raced at the thought of a solution being right at my fingertips. But then confusion settled upon me. Why would she be nervous?

And so she paced, her hands gesturing wildly as she talked. "So I went to Professor Flitwick this morning after breakfast. I kind of told him about your situation - " she broke off as she looked at me, noticing the startled look on my face, "-_but_ I didn't tell him it was you, specifically, I just told him that I read about it somewhere. Of course he wanted to know which book it was, but then I had to say that I didn't remember, because obviously it wasn't a book, was it?" She paused to breathe, and if the situation weren't so serious, I would have laughed.

She plunged on. "He asked me to explain exactly what I read, so obviously I had to explain all your symptoms." I cocked an eyebrow. Symptoms? She seemed to understand. "Well, you know what I mean. But anyway, he came up with two solutions. And I think the one is really unoriginal, it usually occurs in books you know? So I suggest the other solution."

I looked at her, waiting for her to go on.

She bit her lip again, her brown eyes looking everywhere else except at me. "Well, the one that _I _think that you should do, as it's more practical, is to sort of wait until the next full moon, and the person who put the spell on you is to, I don't know, do something to you, or say something, and _voila_-"here, she clapped her hands, but somehow I thought she was faking her joy, "-you'll be fixed."

I narrowed my eyes. We just had a full moon last week. I'm supposed to wait a couple of _weeks_ until I can get cured? Absolutely not.

I tilted my head, waiting for her to tell me of the other solution.

Thankfully, she understood my silent wish.

She shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, as I said, it's pretty unoriginal. And it might even take longer than the other one, or maybe you might already have someone you ..." She trailed off, and cleared her throat.

She sat down and carried on, "Right, now you don't have to do this." I wondered why she was taking so long to tell me about this solution, and why she was so nervous and uncomfortable.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she said at top speed, "When-the-feeling-is-real-and-you've-realized-it-you-need-to-confess-your-love-for-someone-to-that-same-someone."

A moment of silence hung in the air as I tried to process what she just said.

She said, "It's stupid, I know. Why you and not Ron? Or even better," she added with a slight laugh, "why something as random as that? I suggest waiting for the full moon. The process would be effortless you know."

Somehow, for some strange reason, the idea of the second solution appealed to me more than the other. I felt confused. I knew I _liked_ Hermione, but love? Love was an entirely different concept. Love is too powerful a word. It's too strong. It's too serious.

Thing is, was what I felt for Hermione powerful? Strong? Serious?

It sure as hell felt that way.

I couldn't do that though. I wouldn't know how to say it, even though what I might feel for her isn't love. Perhaps it's something else? More than liking her, obviously. I couldn't do it. Even if I did love her, what if it came out all wrong? I've never intoned those fatal three words to anybody else except my mother.

I couldn't do it.

I held up my index finger.

She understood, and I'm quite sure a flash of dismay crossed her beautiful features. It passed a moment later, and she said, just to clarify, "The first option?" was it me, or did her voice have a slight quiver in it?

I nodded, not once taking my eyes off her.

"Okay," she said softly. Then as if recovering, she brightened a bit and said, "Well that's what I told you to do! It's just a few weeks more; don't worry!"

Her smile, beautiful though it was, seemed forced.

I didn't know if I was doing the right thing or not. And I really hoped I wouldn't regret the full moon option.

I just couldn't accept the fact that I might be in love with Hermione. And even if I that was the case, I could never bring myself to say it just to unbind me from a curse.

---------------------------------------------------------to be continued------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Hope you liked it! I was getting MASSIVE writer's block for this chapter, which would explain the delay. So maybe that's why it's not as great as my other chapters? But anyway:

 **please review?**


	13. Professor Flitwick

_**A/**_**N: **Yes, I know, I know! What's with the wait, right? Honestly, I haven't the faintest. But I apologize! So here's another chapter :D Hope you enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------Professor Flitwick--------------------------------------------------------

Hermione's POV

Tension and uneasiness coloured the following few weeks with quite dull colours. I avoided Draco as if he was the Plague, and he likewise avoided me. I guess he didn't feel like being in the same room with a girl that was clearly infatuated with him - I mean, I wasn't _that_ subtle, although I did try to be. My reason? Well, I was incredibly embarrassed about what had happened a few weeks previously. My words were quite see-through, in my opinion. I had almost implied that he should admit he was in love with me! How bizarre! But a girl can dream, right?

I still wasn't too sure how the events were going to unfold with regards to the full moon. What was Ronald supposed to _do?_ Or say? Despite my threat, he still hadn't apologized to Draco. So I planned my next move as I made my way to the Gryffindor Tower. It was eight o' clock in the morning, and I knew the boys would be asleep - it was a Sunday, after all.

My feet took me up the all-too-familiar staircase. I banged open the door, and walked over to sit on the edge of Ronald's bed. There he was, typical ballerina pose, with the sheets gathered at his feet. And did he always sleep shirtless? To think I used to marvel at his chest not many months ago ...

Poor thing looked so peaceful I almost regretted what I was about to do. Almost.

I leaned down, and shouted into his ear, "Morning, Ronald!"

He got up with such a fright, that he knocked my head. "Ow," I complained.

"Well who asked you to scare me like that?" he asked groggily. "And why do you always have to come up here so early in the morning?" He hastily brought the sheets up to his chin.

I rolled my eyes, choosing to ignore his second question. "Did I _scare_ you, dear Ronald?" I crooned in a mock-motherly voice. "Aw, I didn't know I had that kind of effect on you."

"Shut up, Hermione," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. "What are you doing here anyways? I haven't cursed anybody, if that's what you're here for."

I sighed. "No, Ron, but it does have something to do with that. You see," I started, making myself comfortable, "Since you didn't -"

"Hermione?" Harry's voice called from across the room. Ah, he had just woken up. Ron and I looked over to him. Ron raised his hand in greeting. "Mornin', mate."

Harry looked between Ron and I. "Yeah, hi," he said, distracted. By me, probably. His next question confirmed my suspicions. "Hermione ... what are you doing here? Should we start getting used to your morning interruptions?"

"And good morning to you too, Harry," I said sarcastically. "I just thought I'd tell Ronald here about my next punishment."

Ron sat up at that, incredulous. "Punsihment? Oh, c'mon, Hermione! As _if_! You didn't even pull through with your last threat; you think you're going to pull through with a _punishment_?"

He was talking about the one about Lavender. He was right. I hadn't. But I guess I had been so distracted by Draco ... No, that wasn't a good enough excuse. I tried to think up a new excuse.

"Uh," I started off intelligently, "I guess I feel sorry for Lavender. She needs to hear the truth from your lips. She deserves that." Lies, all lies. Lavender still irritated me to no end, but Ron didn't have to know that.

Harry coughed. The boy could see right through me. I threw him a shut-the-hell-up look, and he focused his attention out the window.

I turned to Ron, who hadn't bothered to reply to my brilliantly made-up excuse. "So, I know that you haven't apologized to Malfoy yet - "

"_Malfoy_?" Ron laughed out. "You're back to calling him _Malfoy_, now? What did the bloke do to you?" Ronald seemed very tickled by the situation.

"He didn't _do_ anything, Ron!" Now_ that_ wasn't a lie. Draco _hadn't_ done anything. Well, not anything that I wanted him to do.

"Aw, little Hermione is upset!" he mocked in a baby voice.

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. Bull's-eye.

"As I was saying, I know that you haven't apologized to _Draco_ yet, so I have something new for you to do. Think of it as a ... a job _and_ a punishment."

"This sounds like Harry's cup of tea," Ron grumbled.

"Hey!" Harry cried indignantly. "I think we've had our fair share."

I carried on, "So you're going to cure Mal-Draco."

Ron laughed. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"You're going to ask Professor Flitwick," I said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, yeah," he said sarcastically. "And then after that, I'm going to jump off the Astronomy Tower singing 'I love you, Lavender' over and over in French."

"Good luck with that, mate," Harry teased.

Ron looked at me, and said simply, "No."

"Actually, Ronald, Professor Flitwick's expecting you at around noon today - I kind of already told him." This was a lie of course, but again, Ron didn't have to know that.

"You WHAT?" Ron shouted. "You told him that I cursed the _Head Boy?_ What'll Mum say when she hears from McGonagall? Probably another Howler ... but on second thoughts, she doesn't like Malfoy - "

I might as well put an end to Ron's misery. "Ron, Professor Flitwick doesn't know you did it. I just wanted to help Draco, so I asked Professor Flitwick using a hypothetical situation ... that I read about it in a book. He fell for it, hook, line and sinker."

"Hook, line and sinker? Is that another Muggle expression?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're missing the point, Ron. Just tell Professor Flitwick that you were working with me on that book, and you wanted to know how to reverse such a situation. And that it's all hypothetical."

He reached for some parchment and a quill next to him, and asked, "Can you repeat that please?"

"Ron!" I said in frustration. I repeated my words adding more detail, and he took them down.

"And if I don't do this ...?" he asked.

I smiled what I hoped was a wicked smile. I don't think it worked, because his expression didn't change. "Then I'll tell Professor Flitwick the _real_ situation."

Ron gulped. "Got it."

I smiled. "Good." And with that I walked out, throwing over my shoulder, "Bye, Harry!"

_End of Hermione's POV_

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron gaped after her, and then at Harry, who looked quite amused. "Why did _you_ get a goodbye, and not me?"

Harry hopped out of bed, saying, "I think it was more of a 'bye' than a '_good_bye'."

"Not the point, Harry. And I don't know why you're up this early. Why are you up this early?" Ron asked as an afterthought.

Harry put on his glasses, and headed over to the bathroom. "Well," he said hesitantly, "Ginny usually heads down to the Great Hall around about now, so I was hoping I could catch up with her."

Ron sighed. Not this again. "Harry, you can't keep playing with her like that. You can't have an on-again off-again relationship with my sister. I won't allow it," he said adamantly.

Harry shifted from foot to foot. "Last time was different, Ron. Voldemort's out of the picture now." After a while, Harry said softly, "I miss her, Ron. I miss how we were able to have long conversations, and how she would assure me that everything was alright, and how she used to k-"

Ron held up his hands. "I don't need to hear all the gory details! But seriously, mate, do what you have to do. But don't hurt her again."

Harry nodded, and went to have a quick shower.

Three and a half hours later, Ron found himself outside Flitwick's office. The parchment with the words that Hermione had reiterated for him on it lay scrunched up into a ball in his pocket. He didn't need it. The words were etched to his memory. He knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked again, a bit louder.

The door opened, then, and Flitwick's tiny frame stood before Ron. "Mr Weasley? What can I do for you? I certainly wasn't expecting you of all people."

Ron's jaw dropped open. Hermione had lied! Well, he had to hand it to her; she really was the smartest witch in their year, to con him like that.

Ron gathered himself and said, "Uh, Professor Flitwick, I have a question." And then Ron intoned the words that were on the parchment.

Professor Flitwick readjusted his glasses. "Ah, yes, Miss Granger told me a similar story." Ron waited for him to continue but Flitwick just remained standing there.

Ron said, "Uh, so what would one do in a situation like this?"

Flitwick replied, "The person who cast the spell must re-cast it at a full moon. He must hold the victim's hand - "

Ron's eyes widened in horror. "Hold the victim's _what_?"

Flitwick said impatiently, "His hand, Mr Weasley. And after a few minutes, the spell should wear off."

"It _should_ wear off?" Ron asked dubiously.

"The worst outcome is that the spell would be transferred to the person who cast it if it's not done properly and without feeling."

Ron whimpered.

Professor Flitwick lifted a small eyebrow. "Was that all, Mr Weasley? You look a bit pale."

Ron found his voice. "No, no. Perfectly normal. And, yes, Professor, that was about it. Thank you."

And with that, Ron hobbled off, cursing the day that he had thought up Operation Bumfluff. Operation Bumfluff _Two_, rather.

_Well,_ Ron thought,_ here's to holding hands with Malfoy at the next full moon. _ Which was tomorrow, incidentally.

--------------------------------------------------------to be continued-------------------------------------------------------------

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	14. Full Moon

_**A/**_**N: Hmmm, definitely not one of my best pieces, but I was bored, so I decided to write another chapter. I hope it's not **_**that**_** disappointing! **

------------------------------------------------------------FULL MOON--------------------------------------------------------------

Dozens of stars littered the black blanket of sky that Ron was impatiently staring up at. The full moon, in all its natural beauty, was present. Ron cursed. He turned to Hermione.

"Where the hell is Malfoy?" he spat.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "He should be coming now .... And why are you so irritated?"

Ron let out a strangled sound. "I've got to hold _hands_ with the idiot, for crying out loud! Do you really think I want to do that?"

_I'd trade positions anytime, Ronald_, Hermione thought.

They were standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch - Ron wanted luck for his "torture".

"Remind me why I am here, Ronald?"

He glanced at her. "To help out one of your best friends?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. Ron threw up his hands into the air. "Aw, c'mon, Hermione. What if he wants to seek revenge or something? I thought that he wouldn't want to do it in front of a girl."

Hermione flared up at that. She said hotly, "I can assure you that I'm no mere _girl_, Ronald. I-" she was cut off by a tall figure that was approaching them. His features were gently lit up by the moon's generous light. He came to a stop a few metres from them. He turned towards Hermione and met her gaze.

_Draco_, Hermione thought, and her heart ached. She refused to show her weakness in front of him, so she returned his gaze with a cool look. He nodded his head at her.

"Malfoy." She returned the nod. No weakness will be shown. She continued to stare at him, until he was forced to look away.

Ron cleared his throat. "So," he asked Draco, "are you ready?" Draco looked enquiringly at Ron.

Hermione blushed. She knew what he was wondering, but didn't think Ron did. "Ron, I didn't exactly tell him."

Ron looked puzzled. Before he could say anything, Hermione explained, "I didn't have time. Head duties, you know. I'm sure Malfoy would understand."

Malfoy's eyebrow crinkled slightly, and then straightened out.

-------------------------------------

Draco's POV

Why was Hermione acting so indifferent? She seemed so ... cold ... towards me. Maybe it was because Weasel was here?

I nodded once in response, trying to not show how emotionally attached to her I was. I chose to slide my gaze over to Weasel instead.

Hermione whispered to Weasley, "Tell him."

"Why can't he speak for his bloody self?" Weasley grumbled. I rolled my eyes. The boy was daft.

Hermione imitated me - without knowing, I guess. "You cast an _insulting_ spell on him, Ronald. I don't think he wants to waste time insulting people and hurting them. So could you just _tell_ him already?"

Weasley blushed. "Well, it's bloody stupid," he told me, "but seeing that I cursed - _cast_ a spell upon you, I should be the one to reverse it." Hmmm, that sounded fair enough. He continued, "So what we have to do is"- he fake-coughed disguising a few words, and I'm pretty sure I heard the words "hold hands".

I jumped a metre or so away from him, bewildered. Did he just say _hold hands? _I looked at Hermione for confirmation, but was distracted by the small smile that seemed to pull at her lips. So beautiful.

I shook my head to clear it. I looked at her, trying to ask her with my eyes whether it was true or not. The smile had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

She nodded wordlessly. I sighed and turned back to Weasley. He seemed to understand.

"Right," he said awkwardly, "let's do this." He walked over hesitantly towards me, unsure. I would've laughed out loud if I was in a better mood, but I wasn't, so I just stood there, waiting.

"Uh, I'm going to need your right- no wait, your left - no, no, your _right _hand to, er, hold," he said. Via my peripheral vision, I could see Hermione observing the situation.

I gave Ron my right hand, resignedly. He took it, awkwardly.

Hermione laughed. Ah, like music to my ears. I sighed.

Weasley misinterpreted my sigh. "You can't _honestly_ be enjoying this, Malfoy?" he cried out exasperatedly. I rolled my eyes. "And what do you think is so funny, Hermione?" he asked her.

It looked as though she was about to say something, but decided against it. Weasley was brought back to attention. He coughed. "Right, let's do this," he repeated. He took out his wand, and muttered, "_Insultus momentus." _A hiss flew out of his wand, and then ... nothing.

Weasley looked as confused as I felt. He looked at Hermione, and asked, "Well, is that it?"

She sighed. "There's only one way to find out." Did I imagine the hope that coloured her voice?

Weasley nodded and ordered, "Malfoy, say something."

I hoped against every hope of mine that this would work. I closed my eyes.

"Hermione," I breathed, my voice rough with all the pent-up emotion I had. I opened my eyes to find Weasley staring at me with annoyance.

"Oh, this is just _great!"_ he huffed, and stalked back to the castle.

I stared after him for a moment or two, and then returned my attention to Hermione. She didn't seem to be affected by what I had just said. Her eyes were ambivalent.

"Hermione, did I - did I say something to offend you?" I asked, concern filling my voice. I took a step closer to her, and was surprised when she took a step back.

I felt my eyes widen. "Hermione -"

She held up her hand. "Don't." She started to walk away, but I caught her wrist and pulled her back. "Wait, I just wanted to say thank you. You've done so much to help. Just, thanks."

She shrugged, looking nonchalant, and backed away from me slightly. "I helped you because the school needed their Head Boy back. A Head Boy wouldn't be a Head Boy without saying anything. I did it for the school." Her words hit me like a whip. What was with the hot and cold treatment?

"There's no other reason? Nothing at all?" I asked just to make sure.

She looked away and laughed, her laugh sounding empty. She said, without looking at me, "What reason would there be, Malfoy? That I cared so much for you? That I wanted to be able to have proper conversations with you, just like old times?"

She was lying. I knew it. She wouldn't look at me.

I grabbed her shoulders, and the action was so sudden that she looked at me, startled. I held her gaze and whispered, "Look into my eyes and repeat what you just said."

"What do you want me to say?" she asked in a hard tone.

"Tell me," my gentle whisper contrasting her tone, "that you don't care for me."

Instead of answering me, she pushed herself away from me. She glared at me. "I don't care for you." I didn't notice how her voice slipped on the last word.

I felt hurt. "Sorry."

She sighed. "Why are you sorry, Malfoy?"

I ran a hand through my hair, and faced away from her. "I'm sorry that I kissed you. I wasn't supposed to. I hadn't even _known_ that you would've wanted -" My voice grew frustrated. "I really liked you. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." There, it was out in the open. I turned slowly back to face her.

Her eyes were wide with shock. She whispered, the harsh tone now a ghost of the past, "You ... _liked_ me?"

I nodded.

She took a step closer. My heart hummed. "And now?" she breathed.

I closed my eyes. I could smell her; she was _that_ close. I took pleasure in the scent, knowing that I might not be able to be that near to smell it ever again. After what I was about to say.

"I still do," I said, my eyes still closed.

"Oh," she said softly. I opened my eyes. She wasn't looking at me.

"Hermione?" I asked hesitantly.

----------------------------------------------------------to be continued-----------------------------------------------------------

**Review? Please ...**


	15. Friendship

_**A/**_**N: So apparently I ended my last chapter with a cliff-hanger ... LOL, that's the first time I ever did that and got such an awesome and angry response! So, sorry for that! Hope you like this one! It's extremely short, but I guess you'll find out why.**

-------------------------------------------------------------FRIENDSHIP--------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione's POV

It was getting colder now, almost nearing midnight. I could feel Draco's eyes on me, waiting for an answer. What to say? I had to act nonchalant. I _had_ to. Just like how I was acting the whole time he was here. What if he took advantage of the fact that I liked him? That the Draco Malfoy I knew was just a facade - to make me fall for him and then mock me in front of his Slytherin friends?

But I knew he wasn't like that - deep down, I knew he had changed. I was in love with him, that much I knew. Each breath I breathed was for him - and maybe that sounded too clichéd, maybe. But in the broader scheme of things, love conquers all.

So if he had indeed changed, what was holding me back? Pride? The conflict between Ron and Draco? Would I choose one of my best friends over Draco? Could I?

And then the answer came. I could. I _could_ choose. But I wouldn't. I didn't need others to tell me how to feel, how to act. I am Hermione Granger, for crying out loud!

I turned my gaze back to Draco, and I found myself to be quite alarmed at his twisted features. Did he really care that much about me?

I took a step even closer to him, and heard his breath catch. Good, I wasn't alone in this. Before I could say anything, he said in a voice my heart had memorized, "Look, Hermione," the way in which he lovingly said my name sent a thrill through my body, "I'd be happy if we could just be friends. It is perfectly okay if you don't, you know, _like_ me. Just, friendship -"

I cut him off, "No."

His eyes widened. "No?" he repeated.

I shook my head. "No, I don't want your friendship."

His hand made his way through his perfect hair once more, and he said quietly, "I apologize. I didn't realize you felt that way."

I stepped forward so that we were but an inch apart. "I don't want your friendship," I whispered softly, looking directly into his silver orbs, "because I want something more than mere companionship with you."

He drew in his breath and it sounded ragged. His raised his hand slowly to hold mine, his thumb drawing tiny shapes. His eyes burned into mine and he asked, "Does this mean you like me?"

I hesitated. Should I tell him the truth? My heart sang the answer in a sweet melody. Who said that the man was supposed to make the first move? With the hand he wasn't holding, I reached up to gently stroke his hair. He closed his eyes at the contact. His hair was just as I expected: soft.

"No, Draco, I don't like you." He opened his eyes slowly, confused. I carried on, "I'm in love with you." His eyes widened to bright silver orbs. I rushed on, "But you don't have to say anything just yet. I just thought I'd get it out in the open, in case you were wondering -"

His lips were just as I remembered. They came crashing down upon mine, and I felt as if I was on fire despite the cold breeze. He wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace and both my hands got tangled in his hair. His lips were warm against mine, and I felt as if no time had elapsed since our last kiss. I felt his one hand run slowly up my spine, emanating shocks to course through my whole body, and came to rest at the nape of my neck, his fingers drawing patterns there.

I sighed against his lips, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. For a while we let our lips and tongues do the talking, and when I desperately needed air, I pulled away from him.

The rush of cold air that greeted my lips wasn't very pleasant. I leaned my head against his warm chest, and the action felt so _right_. His arms enveloped me, his chin resting gently on my head.

"Hermione?" he asked after a while. I loved the sound of his voice.

I felt as though I could stand there for hours without feeling uncomfortable. "Hm?" I answered.

"I'm in with love you, too. So very much in love." His words meant so much to me, warming me, and I closed my eyes in the comfort of them.

I raised my head to look up at him. His eyes confirmed the truth in his words, and I reached up to plant a kiss on his lips. "I know," I whispered, and together we walked back to the castle, hand in hand, the sounds of life and meaning surrounding us.

--------------------------------------------------------------THE END-----------------------------------------------------------------

_**A/**_**N: So there you go! **_**War of Words**_** is finally over. I really hope you enjoyed reading it. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it and reading all your reviews! I told you that when you see "THE END" you'll know it's finally over. Sorry it was so short ... please review? **

**I'd like to thank all those who reviewed, and messaged me :D I appreciate your support. **


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